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GOOD-BYE, FRANTZ,” SAID SUZEL 


Page 39 






A WINTER 

AMID THE ICE, 

AND 

OTHER THRILLING STORIES. 


BY 

JULES VERNE. 

•WITH Ii:iILTJSTI?,As.TI01SrS. 


NEW YORK: 

WORLD PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

21 ASTOR PLACE AND I 42 EIGHTH ST. 

1877. 



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uiliiupiiilijlijnlli 


CONTENTS. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 

CHAPTER I. 

# 


The black flag 


193 




IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER II. 

PACK 

Jean Cornbutte’s project '*. ...••• • 201 

CHAPTER III. 

A ray of hope 208 

CHAPTER IV. 

In the passes. .«•••• 214 

CHAPTER V. 

Liverpool Island . 230 

CHAPTER VI. 

The quaking of the ice . , 227 


CHAPTER VII. 


Settling for the winter 


234 


CHAPTER VIII. 
Plan of the explorations .... 

CHAPTER IX. 
The house of snow 


239 


244 


CHAPTER X. 

Buried alive 


CHAPTER XI. 


A cloud of smoke . 


257 


CONTENTS. 


V 


CHAPTER XII. 

PAGE 

The return to the ship • • . 264 


The two rivals • 

CHAPTER XIH. 

Distress • • 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The white bears . 

CHAPTER XV 

282 

Conclusion • • 

CHAPTER XVI. 

ASCENT OF 

MONT BLANC r . • . 295 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 

CHAPTER I. 

• PAGE 

How it is useless to seek, even on the best maps, for the small 

town of Quiquendone i 

CHAPTER II. 


In which the Burgomaster Van Tricasse and the Counsellor 
Niklausse consult about the affairs of the town 


4 


vi 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER III. 

In which the Commissary Passauf enters as noisily as un- 
expectedly 


CHAPTER IV. 

In which Doctor Ox reveals himself as a physiologist of the first 
rank, and as an audacious experimentalist .... 

CHAPTER V. 

In which the burgomaster and the counsellor pay a visit to 
Doctor Ox, and what follows 

CHAPTER VI. 

In which Frantz Niklausse and Suzel Van Tricasse form certain 
projects for the future 


CHAPTER VII. 

In which the Andantes become Allegros, ' and the Allegros 
Vivaces 


CHAPTER VIII. 

In which the ancient and solemn German waltz becomes a 
whirlwind 


CHAPTER IX. 

In which Doctor Ox and Ygene, his assistant, say a few words . 
CHAPTER X. 

In which it will be seen that the epidemic invades the entire 
town, and what effect it produces . i . . . . 


PAGB 

II 

19 

26 

35 

40 

S3 

62 

63 


CONTENTS. 


vii 


CHAPTER XI. 

In which the Quiquendonians adopt a heroic resolution 

CHAPTER XII. 

In which Yg^ne, the assistant, gives a reasonable piece' of 
advice, which is eagerly rejected by Doctor Ox . . , 

CHAPTER XIII. 

In which it is once more proved that by taking high ground all 
human littlenesses may be overlooked . . . . 

CHAPTER XIV. 

In which matters go so far that the inhabitants of Quiquendone, 
the reader, and even the author, demand an immediate 
denouement 


CHAPTER XV. 

* 

In which the denouement takes place ..•••. 
CHAPTER XVI. 

In which the intelligent reader sees that he has guessed 
correctly, despite all the authors precautions 

CHAPTER XVII. 

In which Doctor Ox's theory is explained . • • • • 


PAGE 

10 

?8 

8o 

91 

97 

99 

101 


viif 


CONTENTS. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 

CHAPTER I. 

PACK 

A winter night .103 

CHAPTER II. 

The pride of science • • .115 

CHAPTER III. 

A strange visit ,, *124 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Church of St. Pierre . , . . • , , .136 

CHAPTER V. 

The hour of death , , .146 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR 


i6i 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PACK 

She handed her father a pipe 6 

The worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had now her second 

husband . 9 

“ I have just come from Dr. Ox’s” .17 

“ It is in the interests of science ” 24 

“ The workmen, whom we have had to choose in Quiqu^endone, 

are not very expeditious ” 31 

The young girl took the line 38 

“ Good-bye, Frantz,” said Suzel 39 

Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success in “ Les 

Huguenots” 45 

They hustle each other to get out . . . . • . .51 

It was no longer a waltz . . 60 

It required two persons to eat a strawberry . • • • , 64 

‘‘To Virgamen ! toVirgamen!” 76 

“ A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank ” . , , .81 

The two friends, arm in arm 86 

The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth ... 97 

He would raise the trap-door constructed in the floor of his 

workshop 105 

The young girl prayed iio 

“ Thou wilt see that I have discovered the secrets of existence” . 1 18 

“ Father, what is the matter ?” 122 


X 


JLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


ght hours 


with 


the 


Then he resumed, in an ironical tone 

From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged the 

house ? 

This proud old man remained motionless • 

“ It is there — there!” . . . • • 

See this man, — he is Time ” . • • 

He was dead 

“ Monsieur, I salute you” . • • • 

** Monsieur !” cried I, in a rage . . • 

“He continued his observations for seven or e 
General Morlot” . . . . ; 

“The balloon became less and less inflated” 

“Zambecarri fell, and was killed !” 

The madman disappeared in space 

“ Monsieur the cure,” said he, “stop a moment, if you please' 
Andre Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of 

dreadful event • . 

A soft voice said in his ear, “ Have good courage, uncle” . 
Andre Vasling showed himself more attentive than ever 
On the 1 2th September the sea consisted of one solid plain 
They found themselves in a most perilous position, for 

icequake had occurred 

Map in hand, he clearly explained their situation 

The caravan set out 

* Thirty- two degrees below zero !” 

Despair and determination were struggling in his rough features 

for the mastery 

It was Louis Cornbutte 

Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians .... 
Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but 

he did not reply 

Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old 
Jean Cornbutte 


an 


PACK 

132 

138 

143 

152 

157 

160 

164 

i66 

178 

181 

190 

191 

193 

201 

209 

221 

227 

232 

239 

244 

251 

257 

264 

272 

278 

283 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xi 


PAGE 

The bear, having descended from the mast, had fallen on the 

two men 288 

‘ The old cure received Louis Cornbutte and Marie . • . 294 

View of Mont Blanc from the Brevent 300 

View of Bossons glacier, near the Grands-Mulets • • . 305 

Passage of the Bossons Glacier 306 

Crevasse and bridge 307 

View of the Seracs ” 308 

View of “ Seracs 309 

Passage of the “Junction” . • 310 

Hut at the Grands-Mulets * 311 

View of Mont Blanc from Grands-Mulets . • • , .313 

Crossing the plateau . .318 

Summit of Mont Blanc . 322 

Grands-Mulets. — Party descending from the hut . . . .331 




DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER I. 

HOW IT IS USELESS TO SEEK, EVEN ON THE BEST MAPS, 
FOR THE SMALL TOWN OF QUIQUENDONE. 

If you try to find, on any map of Flanders, ancient or 
modern, the small town of Quiquendone, probably you will 
not succeed. Is Quiquendone, then, one of those towns 
which have disappeared ? No. A town of the future ? By 
no means. It exists in spite of geographies, and has done 
so for some eight or nine hundred years. It even numbers 
two thousand three hundred and ninety-three souls, allow- 
ing one soul to each inhabitant. It is situated thirteen and 
a half kilometres north-west of Oudenarde, and fifteen and 
a quarter kilometres south-east of Bruges, in the heart 
of Flanders. The Vaar, a small tributary of the Scheldt, 
passes beneath its three bridges, which are still covered 
with a quaint mediaeval roof, like that at Tournay. An old 


2 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


chateau is to be seen' there, the first stone of which was laid 
so long ago as 1197, by Count Baldwin, afterwards Em- 
peror of Constantinople ; and there is a Town Hall, with 
Gothic windows, crowned by a chaplet of battlements, and 
surrounded by a turreted belfry, which rises three hundred 
and fifty-seven feet above the soil Eveiy hoar you may 
hear there a chime of five octaves, a veritable aerial piano, 
the renown of which surpasses that of the famous chimes of 
Bruges. Strangers — if any ever come to Quiquendone — 
do not quit the curious old town until they have visited its 
“ Stadtholder’s Hall,” adorned by a full-length portrait of 
William of Nassau, by Brandon ; the loft of the Church of 
Saint Magloire, a masterpiece of sixteenth century archi- 
tecture ; the cast-iron well in the spacious Place Saint 
Ernuph, the admirable ornamentation of which is attributed 
to the artist-blacksmith, Quentin Metsys ; the tomb for- 
merly erected to Mary of Burgundy, daughter of Charles 
the Bold, who now reposes in the Church of Notre Dame 
at Bruges ; and so on. The principal industry of Quiquen- 
done is the manufacture of whipped creams and barley- 
sugar on a large scale. It has been governed by the Van 
Tricasses, from father to son, for several centuries. And 
yet Quiquendone is not on the map of Flanders ! Have 
the geographers forgotten it, or is it an intentional omis- 
sion ? That I cannot tell ; but Quiquendone really exists, 
with its narrow streets, its fortified walls, its Spaiiish-look- 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


3 


ing houses, its market, and its burgomaster— so much so, 
that it has recently been the theatre ot some surprising 
phenomena, as extraordinary and incredible as they are 
true, which are to be recounted in the present narration. 

Surely there is nothing to be said or thought against the 
Flemings of Western Flanders. They are a well-to-do folk, 
wise, prudent, sociable, with even tempers, hospitable, per- 
haps a little heavy in conversation as in mind ; but this 
does not explain why one of the most interesting towns of 
their district has yet to appear on modern maps. 

This omission is certainly to be regretted. If only his- 
tory, or in default of history the chronicles, or in default of 
chronicles the traditions of the country, made mention of 
Quiquendone ! But no ; neither atlases, guides, nor itine- 
raries speak of it. M. Joanne himself, that energetic 
hunter after srhall towns, says not a word of it. It might 
be readily conceived that this silence would injure the com- 
merce, the industries, of the town. But let us hasten to 
add that Quiquendone has neither industry nor commerce, 
and that it does very well without them. Its barley-sugar 
and whipped cream are consumed on the spot ; none is 
exported. In short, the Quiquendonians have no need of 
anybody. Their desires are limited, their existence is a 
modest one; they are calm, moderate, phlegmatic — in a 
word, they are Flemings ; such as are still to be met with 
sometimes between the Scheldt and the North Sea. 


B 2 


4 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER II. 

IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER VAN TRICASSE AND THE 

COUNSELLOR NIKLAUSSE CONSULT ABOUT THE AFFAIRS 

OF THE TOWN. 

You think so asked the burgomaster. 

** I — think so,” replied the counsellor, after some minutes 
of silence. 

“You see, we must not act hastily,” resumed the burgo- 
master. 

“ We have been talking over this grave matter for ten 
years,” replied the Counsellor Niklausse, “and I confess to 
you, my worthy Van Tricasse, that I cannot yet take it 
upon myself to come to a decision.” 

“ I quite understand your hesitation,” said the burgo- 
master, who did not speak until after a good quarter of an 
hour of reflection, “ I quite understand it, and I fully share 
it. We shall do wisely to decide upon nothing without a 
more carelul examination of the question.” 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


5 


**It is certain,” replied Niklausse, “that this post of civil 
commissary is useless in so peaceful a town as Quiquen- 
done.” 

“Our predecessor,” said Van Tricasse gravely, “our 
predecessor never said, never would have dared to say, that 
anything is certain. Every affirmation is subject to awk- 
ward qualifications.” 

The counsellor nodded his head slowly in token of assent ; 
then he remained silent for nearly half an hour. After this 
lapse of time, during which neither the counsellor nor the 
burgomaster moved so much as a finger, Niklausse asked 
Van Tricasse whether his predecessor — of some twenty 
years before — had not thought of suppressing this office of 
civil commissary, which each year cost the town of Qui- 
quendone the sum of thirteen hundred and seventy-five 
francs and some centimes. 

“ I believe he did,” replied the burgomaster, carrying his 
hand with majestic deliberation to his ample brow ; “ but 
the worthy man died without having dared to make up his 
mind, either as to this or any other administrative measure. 
He was a sage. Why should I not do as he did } ” 

Counsellor Niklausse was incapable of originating any 
objection to the burgomaster’s opinion. 

“The man who dies,” added Van Tricasse solemnly, 
“without ever having decided upon anything during his 
life, has very nearly attained to perfection.” 


6 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


This said, the burgomaster pressed a bell with the end of 
his little' finger, which gave forth a muffled sound, which 
seemed less a sound than a sigh. Presently some light 
steps glided softly across the tile floor. A mouse would 
not have made less noise, running over a thick carpet. The 
door of the room opened, turning on its well-oiled hinges. 
A young girl, with long blonde tresses, made her appear- 
ance. It was Suzel Van Tricasse, the burgomaster’s only 
daughter. She handed her father a pipe, filled to the brim, 
and a small copper brazier, spoke not a word, and disap- 
peared at once, making no more noise at her exit than at 
her entrance. 

The worthy burgomaster lighted his pipe, and was 
soon hidden in a cloud of bluish smoke, leaving Counsellor 
Niklausse plunged in the most absorbing thought. 

The room in which these two notable personages, charged 
with the government of Quiquendone, were talking, was a 
parlour richly adorned with carvings in dark wood. A 
lofty fireplace, in which an oak might have been burned or 
an ox roasted, occupied the whole of one of the sides of the 
room ; opposite to it was a trellised window, the painted 
glass of which toned down the brightness of the sunbeams. 
In an antique frame above the chimney-piece appeared the 
portrait of some worthy man, attributed to Memling, which 
no doubt represented an ancestor of the Van Tricasses, 
whose authentic genealogy dates back to the fourteenth 



SHE HANDED HER FATHER HIS PIPE. 


Page 6. 









DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


7 


century, the period when the Flemings and Guy de Dam- 
pierre were engaged in wars with the Emperor Rudolph of 
Hapsburgh. 

This parlour was the principal apartment of the bur- 
gomaster’s house, which was one of the pleasantest in 
Quiquendone. Built in the Flemish style, with all the 
abruptness,* quaintness, and picturesqueness of Pointed 
architecture, it was considered one of the most curious 
monuments of the town. A Carthusian convent, or a deaf 
and dumb asylum, was not more silent than this mansion. 
Noise had no existence there ; people did not walk, but 
glided about in it ; they did not speak, they murmured. 
There was not, however, any lack of women in the house, 
which, in addition to the burgomaster Van Tricasse himself, 
sheltered his wife, Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse, his 
daughter, Suzel Van Tricasse, and his domestic, Lotche 
Jansh^u. We may also mention the burgomaster’s sister. 
Aunt Hermance, an elderly maiden who still bore the 
nickname of Tatanemance, which her niece Suzel had given 
her when a child. But in spite of all these elements of 
discord and noise, the burgomaster’s house was as calm as 
a desert. 

The burgomaster was some fifty years old, neither fat 
nor lean, neither short nor tall, neither rubicund nor pale, 
neither gay nor sad, neither contented nor discontented, 
neither energetic nor dull,, neither proud nor humble, neither 


? DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 

good nor bad, neither generous nor miserly, neither 
courageous nor cowardly, neither too much nor too little of 
anything — a man notably moderate in all respects, whose 
invariable slowness of motion, slightly hanging lower jaw, 
prominent eyebrows, massive forehead, smooth, as a copper 
plate and without a wrinkle, would at once have betrayed 
to a physiognomist that the burgomaster Van Tricasse was 
phlegm personified. Never, either. from anger or passion, 
had any emotion whatever hastened the beating of this man’s 
heart, or flushed his face ; never had his pupils contracted 
under the influence of any irritation, however ephemeral. 
He invariably wore good clothes, neither too large nor too 
small, which he never seemed to wear out. He was shod with 
large square shoes with triple soles and silver buckles, which 
lasted so long that his shoemaker was in despair. Upon 
his head he wore a large hat which dated from the period 
when Flanders was separated from Holland, so that this 
venerable masterpiece was at least forty years old. But 
what would you have ? It is the passions which wear out 
body as well as soul, the clothes as well as the body ; and 
our worthy burgomaster, apathetic, indolent, indifferent, 
was passionate in nothing. He wore nothing out, not even 
himself, and he considered himself the very man to 
administer the affairs of Quiquendone and its tranquil 
population. 

The town, indeed, was not less calm than the Van 



THE WORTHY MADAME BRIGITTE VAN 1 RICASSE HAD NOW HER 

SECOND HUSBAND. 







♦ 




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DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


9 


Tricasse mansion. It was in this peaceful dwelling that 
the burgomaster reckoned on attaining the utmost limit of 
human existence, after having, however, seen the good 
Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse, his wife, precede him to 
the tomb, where, surely, she would not find a more profound 
repose than that she had enjoyed on earth for sixty years. 

This demands explanation. 

The Van Tricasse family might well call itself the 
Jeannot family.” This is why : — 

Every one knows that the knife of this typical personage 
is as celebrated as its proprietor, and not less incapable of 
wearing out, thanks to the double operation, incessantly 
repeated, of replacing the handle when it is worn out, and 
the blade when it becomes worthless. A precisely similar 
operation had been going on from time immemorial in the 
Van Tricasse family, to which Nature had lent herself with 
more than usual complacency. From 1340 it had invari- 
ably happened that a Van Tricasse, when left a widower, 
had remarried a Van Tricasse younger than himself ; who, 
becoming in turn a widow, had married again a Van 
Tricasse younger than herself ; and so on, without a break 
in the continuity, from generation to generation. Each 
died in his or her turn with mechanical regularity. Thus 
the worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had now her 
second husband ; and, unless she violated her every duty, 
would precede her spouse — he being ten years younger than 


10 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


herself — to the other world, to make room for a new 
Madame Van Tricasse. Upon this the burgomaster 
calmly counted, that the family tradition might not be 
broken. Such was this mansion, peaceful and silent, of 
which the doors never creaked, the windows never rattled, 
the floors never groaned, the chimneys never roared, the 
weathercocks never grated, the furniture never squeaked, 
the locks never clanked, and the occupants never made 
more noise than their shadows. The god Harpocrates 
would certainly have chosen it for the Temple of Silence. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


11 


CHAPTER III. 

IN WHICH THE COMMISSARY PASSAUF ENTERS AS NOISILY 
AS UNEXPECTEDLY. 

When the interesting conversation which has been narrated 
began, it was a quarter before three in the afternoon. It 
was at a quarter before four that Van Tricasse lighted his 
enormous pipe, which could hold a quart of tobacco, and 
it was at thirty-five minutes past five that he finished 
smoking it. 

All this time the two comrades did not exchange a single 
word. 

About six o’clock the counsellor, who had a habit of 
speaking in a very summary manner, resumed in these 
words, — 

** So we decide — ” 

** To decide nothing,” replied the burgomaster. 

‘‘ I think, on the whole, that you are right, Van Tricasse.” 
'*1 think so too, Niklausse. We will take steps with 


12 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


reference to the civil commissary when we have more light 
on the subject — later on. There is no need for a month 
yet.” 

‘^Nor even for a year,” replied Niklausse, unfolding his 
pocket-handkerchief and calmly applying it to his nose. 

There was another silence of nearly a quarter of an hour. 
Nothing disturbed this repeated pause in the conversation ; 
not even the appearance of the house-dog Lento, who, not 
less phlegmatic than his master, came to pay his respects 
in the parlour. Noble dog ! — a model for his race. Had he 
been made of pasteboard, with wheels on his paws, he 
would not have made less noise during his stay. 

Towards eight o”clock, after Lotche had brought the 
antique lamp of polished glass, the burgomaster said to the 
counsellor, — 

“ We have no other urgent matter to consider ?” 

** No, Van Tricasse ; none that I know of.” 

** Have I not been told, though,” asked the burgomaster, 
** that the tower of the Oudenarde gate is likely to tumble 
down ?” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” replied the counsellor ; really, I should not be 
astonished if it fell on some passer-by any day.” 

Oh ! before such a misfortune happens I hope we shall 
have come to a decision on the subject of this tower,” 

‘‘I hope so. Van Tricasse.” 

There are more pressing matters to decide.” 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


13 


“ No doubt ; the question of the leather-market, for 
instance.” 

** What, is it still burning ?” 

Still burning, and has been for the last three weeks.” 

Have we not decided in council to let it burn 

“Yes, Van Tricasse — on your motion.” 

“Was not that the surest and simplest way to deal 
with it ” 

“Without doubt.” 

“Well, let us wait. Is that all ?” 

“All,” replied the counsellor, scratching his head, as 
if to assure himself that he had not forgotten anything 
important 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the burgomaster, “ haven’t you also 
heard something of an escape of water which threatens to 
inundate the low quarter of Saint Jacques ?” 

“ I have. It is indeed unfortunate that this escape of 
water did not happen above the leather-market ! It would 
naturally have checked the fire, and would thus have saved 
us a good deal of discussion.” 

“ What can you expect, Niklausse ? There is nothing so 
illogical fis accidents. They are bound by no rules, and 
we cannot profit by one, as we might wish, to remedy 
another.” 

It took Van Tricasse’s companion some time to digest 
this fine observation. 


14 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


“ Well, but,” resumed the Counsellor Niklausse, after the 
lapse of some moments, we have not spoken of our great 
affair!” 

*‘What great affair? Have we, then, a great affair?” 
asked the burgomaster. 

“ No doubt. About lighting the town.” 

“ O yes. If my memory serves me, you are referring to 
the lighting plan of Doctor Ox.” 

Precisely.” 

“It is going on, Niklausse,” replied the burgomaster. 
“They are already laying the pipes, and the works are 
entirely completed.” 

“ Perhaps we have hurried a little in this matter,” said 
the counsellor, shaking his head. 

“ Perhaps. But our excuse is, that Doctor Ox bears the 
whole expense of his experiment. It will not cost us a 
sou.” 

“ That, true enough, is our excuse. Moreover, we must 
advance with the age. If the experiment succeeds, Qui- 
quendone will be the first town in Flanders to be lighted 
with the oxy — What is the gas called ?” 

“ Oxyhydric gas.” 

“Well, oxyhydric gas, then.” 

At this moment the door opened, and Lotche came in to 
tell the burgomaster that his supper was ready. 

Counsellor Niklausse rose to take leave of Van Tricasse, 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


15 

whose appetite had been stimulated by so many affairs 
discussed and decisions taken ; and it was agreed that the 
council of notables should be convened after a reasonably 
long delay, to determine whether a decision should be 
provisionally arrived at with reference to the really urgent 
matter of the Oudenarde gate. 

The two worthy administrators then directed their steps 
towards the street-door, the one conducting the other. The 
counsellor, having reached the last step, lighted a little 
lantern to guide him through the obscure streets of Qui- 
quendone, which Doctor Ox had not yet lighted. It was a 
dark October night, and a light fog overshadowed the 
town. 

Niklausse’s preparations for departure consumed at least 
a quarter of an hour ; for, after having lighted his lantern, 
he had to put on his big cow-skin socks and his sheep-skin 
gloves ; then he put up the furred collar of his overcoat, 
turned the brim of his felt hat down over his eyes, grasped 
his heavy crow-beaked umbrella, and got ready to 
start. 

When Lotch^, however, who was lighting, her master, 
was about to draw the bars of the door, an unexpected 
noise arose outside. 

Yes ! Strange as the thing seems, a noise — a real noir 
such as the town had certainly not heard since the takin , 
of the donjon by the Spaniards in 1513— a terrible noise, 


i6 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


awoke the long-dormant echoes of the venerable Van 
Tricasse mansion. 

Some one knocked heavily upon this door, hitherto virgin 
to brutal touch ! Redoubled knocks were given with some 
blunt implement, probably a knotty stick, wielded by a 
vigorous arm. With the strokes were mingled cries and 
calls. These words were distinctly heard : — 

Monsieur Van Tricasse! Monsieur the burgomaster! 
Open, open quickly!” 

The burgomaster and the counsellor, absolutely as- 
tounded, looked at each other speechless. 

This passed their comprehension. If the old culverin of 
the chateau, which had not been used since 1385, had been 
let off in the parlour, the dwellers in the Van Tricasse 
mansion would not have been more dumbfoundered. 

Meanwhile, the blows and cries were redoubled. Lotch^, 
recovering her coolness, had plucked up courage to speak. 

** Who is there ” 

“It is I! I! I!” 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“The Commissary Passauf!” 

The Commissary Passauf ! The very man whose office 
it had been contemplated to suppress for ten years. What 
had happened, then ? Could the Burgundians have 
invaded Quiquendone, as they did in the fourteenth 
century ? No event of less importance could have so 












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DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


17 

moved Commissary Passauf, who in no degree yielded the 
palm to the burgomaster himself for calmness and 
phlegm. 

On a sign from Van Tricasse — for the worthy man could 
not have articulated a syllable — the bar was pushed back 
and the door opened. 

Commissary Passauf flung himself into the antechamber. 
One would have thought there was a hurricane. ^ . 

** What’s the matter, Monsieur the commissary V* 
asked I.otche, a brave woman, who did not lose her head 
under the most trying circumstances. 

^‘What’s the matter!'’ replied Passauf, whose big round 
eyes expressed a genuine agitation. The matter is that 
I have just come from Doctor Ox’s, who has been holding 
a reception, and that there — ” 

There ?” 

“There I have witnessed such an altercation as — 
Monsieur the burgomaster, they have been talking politics!’’ 

“Politics!” repeated Van Tricasse, running his fingers 
through his wig. 

“ Politics ! ’^resumed Commissary Passauf, “ which has not 
been done for perhaps a hundred years at Quiquendone. 
Then the discussion got warm, and the advocate, Andre 
Schut, and the doctor, Dominique Custos, became so violent 
that it may be they will call each other out.” 

“Call each other out!” cried the counsellor. “A duel! 

c 


i8 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


A duel at Quiquendone !” And what did Advocate Schut 
and Doctor Gustos say?” 

“Just this: ‘ Monsieur advocate/ said the doctor to his 
adversary, * you go too far, it seems to me, and you do not 
take sufficient care to control your words !’ ” 

The Burgomaster Van Tricasse clasped his hands — the 
counsellor turned pale and let his lantern fall — the com- 
missary shook his head. That a phrase so evidently 
irritating should be pronounced by two of the principal 
men in the country ! 

“This Doctor Gustos,” muttered Van Tricasse, “is 
decidedly a dangerous man — a hare-brained fellow! Gome, 
gentlemen ! ” 

On this, Gounsellor Niklausse and the commissary 
accompanied the burgomaster into the parlour. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


19 


CHAPTER IV. 

IN 'WHICH DOCTOR OX REVEALS HIMSELF AS A PHYSIO- 
LOGIST OF THE FIRST RANK, AND AS AN AUDACIOUS 
EXPERIMENTALIST. 

Who, then, was this personage, known by the singular 
name of Doctor Ox ? 

An original character for certain, but at the same time a 
bold savant, a physiologist, whose works were known and 
highly estimated throughout learned Europe, a happy rival 
of the Davys, the Daltons, the Bostocks, the Menzies, the 
Godwins, the Vierordts — of all those noble minds who 
have placed physiology among the highest of modern 
sciences. 

Doctor Ox was a man of medium size and height, aged 
— : but we cannot state his age, any more than his 
nationality. Besides, it matters little ; let it suffice that he 
was a strange personage, impetuous and hot-blooded, a 
regular oddity out of one of Hoffmann’s volumes, and one 

C 2 


20 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


who contrasted amusingly enough with the good people of 
Quiquendone. He had an imperturbable confidence both 
in himself, and in his doctrines. Always smiling, walking 
with head erect and shoulders thrown back in a free and 
unconstrained manner, with a steady gaze, large open 
nostrils, a vast mouth which inhaled the air in liberal 
draughts, his appearance was far from unpleasing. He was 
full of animation, well proportioned in all parts of his bodily 
mechanism, with quicksilver in his veins, and a most elastic 
step. He could never stop still in one place, and relieved 
himself with impetuous words and a superabundance of 
gesticulations. 

Was*Doctor Ox rich, then, that he should undertake to 
light a whole town at his expense ? Probably, as he 
permitted himself to indulge in such extravagance, — and 
this is the only answer we can give to this indiscreet 
question. 

Doctor Ox had arrived at Quiquendone five months 
before, accompanied by his assistant, who answered to the 
name of Gedeon Ygene ; a tall, dried-up, thin man, haughty, 
but not less vivacious than his master. • 

And next, why had Doctor Ox made the proposition to 
light the town at his own expense } Why had he, of all 
the Flemings, selected the peaceable Quiquendonians, to 
endow their town with the benefits of an unheard-of system 
of lighting ? Did he not, under this pretext, design to make 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


21 


some great physiological experiment by operating in animd 
vilif In short, what was this original personage about to 
attempt? We know not, as Doctor Ox had no confidant 
except his assistant Yg^ne, who, moreover, obeyed him 
blindly. 

In appearance, at least. Doctor Ox had agreed to light 
the town, which had much need of it, especially at night,” 
as Commissary Passauf wittily said. Works for producing 
a lighting gas had accordingly been established ; the 
gasometers were ready for use, and the main pipes, running 
beneath the street pavements, would soon appear in the 
form of burners in the public edifices and the private houses 
of certain friends of progress. Van Tricasse and Niklausse, 
in their official capacity, and some other worthies, thought 
they ought to allow this modern light to be introduced into 
their dwellings. 

If the reader has not forgotten, it was said, during the 
long conversation of the counsellor and the burgomaster, 
that the lighting of the town was to be achieved, not by the 
combustion of common carburetted hydrogen, produced by 
distilling coal, but by the use of a more modern and twenty- 
fold more brilliant gas, oxyhydric gas, produced by mixing 
hydrogen and oxygen. 

The doctor, who was an able chemist as well as an in- 

nious physiologist, knew how to obtain this gas in great 
quantity and of good quality, not by using manganate of 


22 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


soda, according to the method of M. Tessie du Motay, but. 
by the direct decomposition of slightly acidulated water, 
by means of a battery made of new elements, invented by 
himself. Thus there were no costly materials, no platinum, 
no retorts, no combustibles, no delicate machinery to pro- 
duce the two gases separately. An electric current was 
sent through large basins full of water, and the liquid was 
decomposed into its two constituent parts, oxygen and 
hydrogen. The oxygen passed off at one end ; the hydrogen, 
of double the volume of its late associate, at the other. As 
a necessary precaution, they were collected in separate 
reservoirs, for their mixture would have produced a frightful 
explosion if it had become ignited. Thence the pipes were 
to convey them separately to the various burners, which 
would be so placed as to prevent all chance of explosion. 
Thus a remarkably brilliant flame would be obtained, 
whose light would rival the electric light, which, as every- 
body knows, is, according to Cassellmann’s experiments, 
equal to that of eleven hundred and seventy-one wax candles, 
— not one more, nor one less. 

It was certain that the town of Quiquendone would, by 
this liberal contrivance, gain a splendid lighting; but Doctor 
Ox and his assistant took little account of this, as will be 
seen in the sequel. 

The day after that on which Commissary Passauf had 
made his noisy entrance into the burgomasters parlour. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


23 


Gedeon Yg^ne and Doctor Ox were talking in the labo- 
ratory which both occupied in common, on the ground-floor 
of the principal building of the gas-works. 

“Well, Ygene, well,” cried the doctor, rubbing his hands. 

You saw, at my reception yesterday, the cool-bloodedness 
of these worthy Qiiiquendonians. For animation they are 
midway between sponges and coral! You saw them dis- 
puting and irritating each other by voice and gesture ? 
They are already metamorphosed, morally and physically ! 
And this is only the beginning. Wait till we treat them to 
a big dose 1” 

“ Indeed, master,” replied Ygene, scratching his sharp 
nose with the end of his forefinger, “ the experiment begins 
well, and if I had not prudently closed the supply-tap, I 
know not what would have happened.” 

“You heard Schut, the advocate, and Gustos, the doctor?” 
resumed Doctor Ox. “ The phrase was by no means ill- 
natured in itself, but, in the mouth of a Quiquendonian, it 
is worth all the insults which the Homeric heroes hurled at 
each other before drawing their swords. Ah, these Flemings! 
You’ll see what we shall do some day !” 

“We shall make them ungrateful,” replied Ygene, in the 
tone of a man who esteems the human race at its just 
worth. 

“ Bah !” said the doctor ; “what matters it whether they 
think well or ill of us, so long as our experiment succeeds?” 


24 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


Besides,” returned the assistant, smiling with a malicious 
expression, “ is it not to be feared that, in producing such 
an excitement in their respiratory organs, we shall some- 
what injure the lungs of these good people of Quiquen- 
done?” 

“ So much the worse for them 1 It is in the interests of 
science. What would you say if the dogs or frogs refused 
to lend themselves to the experiments of vivisection 

It is probable that if the frogs and dogs were consulted, 
they would offer some objection ; but Doctor Ox imagined 
that he had stated an unanswerable argument, for he heaved 
a great sigh of satisfaction. 

‘‘After all, master, you are right,” replied Yg^ne, as if 
quite convinced. “We could not have hit upon better 
subjects than these people of Quiquendone for our expe- 
riment.” 

“We — could — not,” said the doctor, slowly articulating 
each word. 

“ Have you felt the pulse of any of them 

“ Some hundreds.” 

“And what is the average pulsation you found 

“ Not fifty per minute. See — this is a town where there 
has not been the shadow of a discussion for a century, 
where the carmen don’t swear, where the coachmen don’t 
insult each other, where harses don’t run away, where the 
dogs don’t bite, where the cats don’t scratch,— a town where 



IT IS IN THE INTERESTS OF SCIENCE 


Page 24 







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DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


25 


the police-court has nothing to do from one year’s end to 
another, — a town where people do not grow enthusiastic 
about anything, either about art or business, — a town where 
the gendarmes are a sort of myth, and in which an indict- 
ment has not been drawn up for a hundred years, — a town, 
in short, where for three centuries nobody has struck a blow 
with his fist or so much as exchanged a slap in the face ! 
You see, Yg^ne, that this cannot last, and that we must 
change it all.” 

“Perfectly! perfectly!” cried the enthusiastic assistant ; 
“and have you analyzed the air of this town, master 

have not failed to do so. Seventy-nine parts of azote 
and twenty-one of oxygen, carbonic acid and steam in a 
variable quantity. These are the ordinary proportions.” 

“ Good, doctor, good ! ” replied Yg^ne. “ The experiment 
will be made on a large scale, and will be decisive.” 

“And if it is decisive,” added Doctor Ox triumphantly, 
‘‘ we shall reform the world !” 


26 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER V. 

IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER AND THE COUNSELLOR 
PAY A VISIT TO DOCTOR OX, AND WHAT FOLLOWS. 

• 

The Counsellor Niklausse and the Burgomaster Van Tricasse 
at last knew what it was to have an agitated night. The 
grave event which had taken place at Doctor Ox’s house 
actually kept them awake. What consequences was this 
affair destined to bring about I They could not imagine. 
Would it be necessary for them to come to a decision ? 
Would the municipal authority, whom they represented, be 
compelled to interfere ? Would they be obliged to order 
arrests to be made, that so great a scandal should not be 
repeated ? All these doubts could not but trouble these 
soft natures ; and on that evening, before separating, the 
two notables had ‘‘decided” to see each other the next 
day. 

On the next morning, then, before dinner, the Burgo- 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


27 


master Van Tricasse proceeded in person to the Counsellor 
Niklausse’s house. He found his friend more calm. He 
himself had recovered his equanimity. 

Nothing new asked Van Tricasse. 

“ Nothing new since yesterday,” replied Niklausse. 

*^And the doctor, Dominique Gustos.?” 

“I have not heard anything, either of him or of the 
advocate, Andre Schut.” 

After an hour’s conversation, which consisted of three 
remarks which it is needless to repeat, the counsellor and 
the burgomaster had resolved to pay a visit to Doctor Ox, 
so as to draw from him, without seeming to do so, some 
details of the affair. 

Contrary to all their habits, after coming to this decision 
the two notables set about putting it into execution forth- 
with. They left the house and directed their steps towards 
Doctor Ox’s laboratory, which was situated outside the 
town, near the Oudenarde gate — the gate whose tower 
threatened to fall in ruins. 

They did not take each other’s arms, but walked side by 
side, with a slow and solemn step, which took them forward 
but thirteen inches per second. This was, indeed, the ordi- 
nary gait of the Quiquendonians, who had never, within 
the memory of man, seen any one run across the streets of 
their town. 

From time to time the two notables would stop at some 


28 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


calm and tranquil crossway, or at the end of a quiet street, 
to salute the passers-by. 

“ Good morning, Monsieur the burgomaster,” said 
one. 

‘‘Good morning, my friend,” responded Van Tricasse. 

“Anything new, Monsieur the counsellor.^” asked 
another. 

“Nothing new,” answered Niklausse. 

But by certain agitated motions and questioning looks, it 
w^as evident that the altercation of the evening before was 
known throughout the town. Observing the direction taken 
by Van Tricasse, the most obtuse Quiquendonians guessed 
that the burgomaster was on his way to take some im- 
portant step. The Gustos and Schut affair was talked of 
everywhere, but the people had not yet come to the point 
of taking the part of one or the other. The Advocate Schut, 
having never had occasion to plead in a town where attorneys 
and bailiffs only existed in tradition, had, consequently, 
never lost a suit. As for the Doctor Gustos, he was an 
honourable practitioner, who, after the example of his fellow- 
doctors, cured all the illnesses of his patients, except those 
of which they died — a habit unhappily acquired by all the 
members of all the faculties in whatever country they may 
practise. 

On reaching the Oudenarde gate, the counsellor and the 
burgomaster prudently made a short detour, so as not to 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


29 


pass within reach of the tower, in case it should fall ; then 
they turned and looked at it attentively. 

think that it will fall,” said Van Tricasse. 

** I think satoo,” replied Niklausse^. 

Unless it is propped up,” added Van Tricasse. *^But 
must it be propped up } That is the question.” 

“ That is — in fact — the question.” 

Some moments after, they reached the door of the gas- 
works. 

Can we see Doctor Ox they asked. 

Doctor Ox could always be seen by the first authorities 
of the town, and they were at once introduced into the 
celebrated physiologist’s study. 

Perhaps the two notables waited for the doctor at least 
an hour ; at least it is reasonable to suppose so, as the bur- 
gomaster — a thing that had never before happened in his 
life — betrayed a certain amount of impatience, from which 
his companion was not exempt. 

Doctor Ox came in at last, and began to excuse himself 
for having kept them waiting ; but he had to approve a 
plan for the gasometer, rectify some of the machinery — 
But everything was going on well ! The pipes intended for 
the oxygen were already laid. In a few months the town 
would be splendidly lighted. The two notables might even 
now see the orifices of the pipes which were laid on in the 
laboratory. 


30 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


Then the doctor begged to know to what he was Indebted 
for the honour of this visit. 

“Only to see you, doctor; to see you,” replied Van 
Tricasse. “ It is lon^ since we have had ,the pleasure. 
We go abroad but little in our good town of Quiquen- 
done. We count our steps and measure our walks. We 
are happy when nothing disturbs the uniformity of our 
habits.” 

Niklausse looked at his friend. His friend had never 
said so much at once — at least, without taking time, and 
giving long intervals between his sentences. It seemed to 
him that Van Tricasse expressed himself with a certain 
volubility, which was by no means common with him. 
Niklausse himself experienced a kind of irresistible desire 
to talk. 

As for Doctor Ox, he looked at the burgomaster with sly 
attention. 

Van Tricasse, who never argued until he had snugly 
ensconced himself in a spacious armchair, had risen to his 
feet. I know not what nervous excitement, quite foreign 
to his temperament, had taken possession of him. He did 
not gesticulate as yet, but this could not be far off. As for 
the counsellor, he rubbed his legs, and breathed with slow 
and long gasps. His look became animated little by little, 
and he had “decided” to support at all hazards, if need be, 
his trusty friend the burgomaster. 





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rHE WORKMEN WHOM WE HAVE TO CHOOSE IN QUIQUENDONE ARE 

NOT VERY EXPEDITIOUS. 



DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


31 


Van Tricasse got up and took several steps ; then he 
came back, and stood facing the doctor. 

. And in how many months,” he asked in a somewhat 
emphatic tome, ^‘do you say that your work will be 
finished 

'‘In three or four months. Monsieur the burgomaster,’* 
replied Doctor Ox. 

“Three or four months, — it’s a very long time!” said 
Van Tricasse. 

“Altogether too long !” added Niklausse, who, not being 
able to keep his seat, rose also. 

“ This lapse of time is necessary to complete our work,” 
returned Doctor Ox. “ The workmen, whom we have had 
to choose in Quiquendone, are not very expeditious.” 

“How not expeditious.?” cried the burgomaster, who 
seemed to take the remark as personally offensive. 

“ No, Monsieur Van Tricasse,” replied Doctor Ox obsti- 
nately. “A French workman would do in a day what it 
takes ten of your workmen to do ; you know, they are 
regular Flemings !” 

“ Flemings I ” cried the counsellor, whose fingers closed 
together. “ In what sense, sir, do you use that word .?” 

“ Why, in the amiable sense in which everybody uses it,” 
replied Doctor Ox, smiling. 

“Ah, but doctor,” said the burgomaster,, pacing up and 
down the room, “I don’t like these insinuations. The 


32 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


workmen of Quiquendone are as efficient as those of any 
other town in the world, you must know ; and we shall go 
neither to Paris nor London for our models ! As for your 
project, I beg you to hasten its execution. Our streets have 
been unpaved for the putting down of your conduit-pipes, 
and it is a hindrance to traffic. Our trade will begin to 
suffer, and I, being the responsible authority, do not propose 
to incur reproaches which will be but too just.” 

Worthy burgomaster ! He spoke of trade, of traffic, and 
the wonder was that those words, to which he was quite 
unaccustomed, did not scorch his lips. What could be 
passing in his mind ? 

“Besides,” added Niklausse, “the town cannot be de- 
prived of light much longer.” 

“ But,” urged Doctor Ox, “ a town which has been un- 
lighted for eight or nine hundred years — ” 

“All the more necessary is it,” replied the burgomaster, 
emphasizing his words. “ Times. alter, manners alter! The 
world advances, and we do not wish to remain behind. We 
desire our streets to be lighted within a month, or you must 
pay a large indemnity for each day of delay; and what 
would happen if, amid the darkness, some affray should 
take place.?” 

“No doubt,” cried Niklausse. “It requires but a spark 
to inflame a Fleming 1 Fleming! Flame!” 

“Apropos of this,” said the burgomaster, interrupting his 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


33 


friend, Commissary Passauf, our chief of police, reports to 
us that a discussion took place in your drawing-room last 
evening, Doctor Ox. Was he wrong in declaring that it 
was a political discussion ?” 

By no means, Monsieur the burgomaster/’ replied Doctor 
Ox, who with difficulty repressed a sigh of satisfaction. 

*‘So an altercation did take place between Dominique 
Gustos and Andre Schut 

^^Yes, counsellor; but the words which passed were not 
of grave import.” 

"Not of grave import!” cried the burgomaster. "Not 
of grave import, when one man tells another that he does 
not measure the effect of his words I But of what stuff are 
you made, monsieur ? Do you not know that in Quiquen- 
done nothing more is needed to bring about extremely 
disastrous results ? But monsieur, if you, or any one else, 
presume to speak thus to me — ” 

"Or to me,” added Niklausse. 

As they pronounced these words with a menacing air, the 
two notables, with folded arms and bristling air, confronted 
Doctor Ox, ready to do him some violence, if by a gesture, 
or even the expression of his eye, he manifested any in- 
tention of contradicting them. 

But the doctor did not budge. 

"At all events, monsieur,” resumed the burgomaster, " I 
propose to hold you responsible for what passes in your 

D 


34 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


house. I am bound to insure the tranquillity of this town, 
and I do not wish it to be disturbed. The events of last 
evening must not be repeated, or I shall do my duty, sir ! 
Do you hear ? Then reply, sir.*’ 

The burgomaster, as he spoke, under the influence of 
extraordinary excitement, elevated his voice to the pitch of 
anger. He was furious, the worthy Van Tricasse, and might 
certainly be heard outside. At last, beside himself, and 
seeing that Doctor Ox did not reply to his challenge, 
Come, Niklausse,” said he. 

And, slamming the door with a violence which shook the 
house, the burgomaster drew his friend after him. 

Little by little, when they had taken twenty steps on 
their road, the worthy notables grew more calm. Their 
pace slackened, their gait became less feverish. The flush 
on their faces faded away ; from being crimson, they 
became rosy. A quarter of an hour after quitting the gas- 
works, Van Tricasse said softly to Niklausse, “An amiable 
man. Doctor Ox ! It is always a pleasure to see him !” 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


35 


CHAPTER VI. 

IN WHICH FRANTZ NIKLAUSSE AND SUZEL VAN TRI- 
CASSE FORM CERTAIN PROJECTS FOR THE FUTURE. 

Our readers know that the burgomaster had a daughter, 
SuzeL But, shrewd as they may be, they cannot have 
divined that the counsellor Niklausse had a son, Frantz ; 
and had they divined this, nothing could have led them to 
imagine that Frantz was the betrothed lover of SuzeL We 
will add that these young people were made for each other, 
and that they loved each other, as folks did love at Qui- 
quendone. 

It must not be thought that young hearts did not beat in 
this exceptional place ; only they beat with a certain deli- 
beration. There were marriages there, as in every other 
town in the world; but they took time about it. Betrothed 
couples, before engaging in these terrible bonds, wished to 
study each other ; and these studies lasted at least ten years, 

n 2 


36 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


as at college. It was rare that any one was accepted ” 
before this lapse of time. 

Yes, ten years ! The courtships last ten years ! And is 
it, after all, too long, when the being bound for life is in 
consideration } One studies ten years to become an en- 
gineer or physician, an advocate or attorney, and should 
less time be spent in acquiring the knowledge to make a 
good husband ? Is it not reasonable } and, whether due to 
temperament or reason with them, the Quiquendonians seem 
to us to be in the right in thus prolonging their court- 
ship. When marriages in other more lively and excitable 
cities are seen taking -place within a few months, we must 
shrug our shoulders, and hasten to send our boys to the 
schools and our daughters to the pensions of Quiquen- 
done. 

For half a century but a single marriage was known to 
have taken place after the lapse of two years only of court- 
ship, and that turned out badly ! 

Frantz Niklausse, then, loved Suzel Van Tricasse, but 
quietly, as a man would love when he has ten years before 
him in which to obtain the beloved object. Once every 
week, at an hour agreed upon, Frantz went to fetch Suzel, 
and took a walk with her along the banks of the Vaar. He 
took good care to carry his fishing-tackle, and Suzel never 
forgot her canvas, on which her pretty hands embroidered 
the most unlikely flowers. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


37 


Frantz was a young man of twenty-two, whose cheeks 
betrayed a soft, peachy down, and whose voice had scarcely 
a compass of one octave. 

As for Suzel, she was blonde and rosy. She was seven- 
teen, and did not dislike fishing. A singular occupation 
this, however, which forces you to struggle craftily with a 
barbel. But Frantz loved it ; the pastime was congenial to 
his temperament. As patient as possible, content to follow 
with his rather dreamy eye the cork which bobbed on the 
top of the water, he knew how to v^rait ; and when, after 
sitting for six hours, a modest barbel, taking pity on him, 
consented at last to be caught, he was happy — but he 
knew how to control his emotion. 

On this day the two lovers— one might say, the two 
betrothed — were seated upon the verdant bank. The 
limpid Vaar murmured a few feet below them. Suzel 
quietly drew her needle across the canvas. Frantz 
automatically carried his line from left to right, then 
permitted it to descend the current from right to left. The 
fish made capricious rings in the water, which crossed 
each other around the cork, while the hook hung useless 
near the bottom. 

From time to time Frantz would say, without raising his 
eyes, — 

I think I have a bite, Suzel.” 

‘‘Do you think so, Frantz?” replied Suzel, who, abari- 


38 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


doning her work for an instant, followed her lover’s line 
Avith earnest eye. 

“N-no,” resumed Frantz; thought I felt a little 
twitch ; I was mistaken.” 

“You will have a bite, Frantz,” replied Suzel, in her pure, 
soft voice. “ But do not forget to strike at the right 
moment. You are always a few seconds too late, and the 
barbel takes advantage to escape.” 

“ Would you like to take my line, Suzel ?” 

“Willingly, Frantz.” 

“ Then give me your canvas. We shall see whether I am 
more adroit with the needle than with the hook.” 

And the young girl took the line with trembling hand, 
while her swain plied the needle across the stitches of the 
embroidery. For hours together they thus exchanged soft 
words, and their hearts palpitated when the cork bobbed on 
the water. Ah, could they ever forget those charming 
hours, during which, seated side by side, they listened to 
the murmurs of the river } 

The sun was fast approaching the western horizon, and 
despite the combined skill of Suzel and Frantz, there had 
not been a bite. The barbels had not shown themselves 
complacent, and seemed to scoff at the two young people, 
who were too just to bear them malice. 

“We shall be more lucky another time, Frantz,” said 
Suzel, as the young angler put up his still virgin hook. 



A 


THE YOUNG GIRL TOOK THE LINE 


Page 38, 




DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


39 


“ Let us hope so,” replied Frantz. 

Then walking side by side, they turned their steps to- 
wards the house, without exchanging a word, as mute as 
their shadows which stretched out before them. Suzel 
became very, very tall under the oblique rays of the setting 
sun. Frantz appeared very, very thin, like the long rod 
which he held in his hand. 

They reached the burgomaster’s house. Green tufts of 
grass bordered the shining pavement, and no one would 
have thought of tearing them away, for they deadened the 
noise made by the passers-by. 

As they were about to open the door, Frantz thought it 
his duty to say to Suzel, — 

“You know, Suzel, the great day is approaching.?” 

“It is indeed, Frantz,” replied the young girl, with 
downcast eyes. 

“Yes,” said Frantz, “in five or six years — ** 

“ Good-bye, Frantz,” said Suzel. 

“Good-bye, Suzel,’^ replied Frantz. 

And, after the door had been closed, the young man 
resumed the way to his father’s house with a calm and 
equal pace. 


40 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT 


CHAPTER VII. 

IN WHICH THE ANDANTES BECOME ALLEGROS, AND THE 
ALLEGROS VIVACES. 

The agitation caused by the Schut and Gustos affair had 
subsided. The affair led to no serious consequences. It 
appeared likely that Quiquendone would return to its 
habitual apathy, which that unexpected event had for a 
moment disturbed. 

Meanwhile, the laying of the pipes destined to conduct 
the oxyhydric gas into the principal edifices of the town 
was proceeding rapidly. The main pipes and branches 
gradually crept beneath the pavements. But the burners 
were still wanting ; for, as it required delicate skill to make 
them, it was nece'ssary that they should be fabricated 
abroad. Doctor Ox was here, there, and everywhere ; 
neither he nor Ygene, his assistant, lost a moment, but 
they urged on the workmen, completed the delicate 
mechanism of the gasometer, fed day and night the 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


41 


immense piles which decomposed the water under the 
influence of a powerful electric current. Yes, the doctor 
was already making his gas, though the pipe-laying was 
not yet done ; a fact which, between ourselves, might have 
seemed a little singular. But before long, — at least there 
was reason to hope so, — before long Doctor Ox would 
inaugurate the splendours of his invention in the theatre of 
the town. 

For Quiquendone possessed a theatre — a really fine 
edifice, in truth — the interior and exterior arrangement of 
which combined every style of architecture. It was at once 
Byzantine, Roman, Gothic, Renaissance, with semicircular 
doors. Pointed windows. Flamboyant rose- windows, fantastic 
bell-turrets, — in a word, a specimen of all sorts, half a 
Parthenon, half a Parisian Grand Cafe. Nor was this 
surprising, the theatre having been commenced under the 
burgomaster Ludwig Van Tricasse, in 1175, and only 
finished in 1837, under the burgomaster Natalis Van 
Tricasse. It had required seven hundred years to build it, 
and it had been successively adapted to the architectural 
style in vogue in each period. But for all that it was an 
imposing structure ; the Roman pillars and Byzantine 
arches of which would appear to advantage lit up by the 
oxyhydric gas. 

Pretty well everything was acted at the theatre of Qui- 
quendone ; but the opera and the opera comique were 


42 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


especially patronized. It must, however, be added that 
the composers would never have recognized their own 
works, so entirely changed were the movements ” of the 
music. 

In short, as nothing was done in a hurry at Quiquendone, 
the dramatic pieces had to be performed in harmony with 
the peculiar temperament of the Quiquendonians. Though 
the doors of the theatre were regularly thrown open at four 
o’clock and closed again at ten, it had never been known 
that more than two acts were played during the six inter- 
vening hours. Robert le Diable,” Les Huguenots,” or 
Guillaume Tell” usually took up three evenings, so slow 
was the execution of these masterpieces. The vivaces^ at 
the theatre of Quiquendone, lagged like real adagios. The 
allegros were long-drawn out ” indeed. The demisemi- 
quavers were scarcely equal to the ordinary semibreves of 
other countries. The most rapid runs, performed according 
to Quiquendonian taste, had the solemn march of a chant. 
The gayest shakes were languishing and measured, that 
they might not shock the ears of the dilettanti. To give 
an example, the rapid air sung by Figaro, on his entrance 
in the first act of Le Barbier de Seville,” lasted fifty-eight 
minutes — when the actor was particularly enthusiastic. 

Artists from abroad, as might be supposed, were forced 
to conform themselves to Quiquendonian fashions ; but as 
they were well paid, they did not complain, and willingly 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


43 


obeyed the leader’s baton, which never beat more than 
eight measures to the minute in the allegros. 

But what applause greeted these artists, who enchanted 
without ever wearying the audiences of Quiquendone ! All 
hands clapped one after another at tolerably long intervals, 
which the papers characterized as frantic applause and 
sometimes nothing but the lavish prodigality with which 
mortar and stone had been used in the twelfth century 
saved the roof of the hall from falling in. 

Besides, the theatre had only one performance a week, 
that these enthusiastic Flemish folk might not be too much 
excited ; and this enabled the actors to study their parts 
more thoroughly, and the spectators to digest more at 
leisure the beauties of the masterpieces brought out. 

Such had long been the drama at Quiquendone. Foreign 
artists were in the habit of making engagements with the 
director of the town, when they wanted to rest after their 
exertions in other scenes ; and it seemed as if nothing 
could ever change these inveterate customs, when, a 
fortnight after the Schut-Custos affair, an unlooked-for 
incident occurred to throw the population into fresh 
agitation. 

It was on a Saturday, an opera day. It was not yet 
intended, as may well be supposed, to inaugurate the new 
illumination. No ; the pipes had reached the hall, but, for 
reasons indicated above, the burners had not yet been 


44 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


placed, and the wax-candles still shed their soft light upon 
the numerous spectators who filled the theatre. The doors 
had been opened to the public at one o’clock, and by three 
the hall was half full. A queue had at one time been 
formed, which extended as far as the end of the Place 
Saint Ernuph, in front of the shop of Josse Lietrinck the 
apothecary. This eagerness was significant of an unusually 
attractive performance. 

*‘Are you going to the theatre this evening.^” inquired 
the counsellor the same morning of the burgomaster. 

shall not fail to do so,” returned Van Tricasse, ^^and 
I shall take Madame Van Tricasse, as well as our daughter 
Suzel and our dear Tatandmance, who all dote on good 
music.” 

“Mademoiselle Suzel is going then?’* 

“ Certainly, Niklausse.” 

“Then my son Franta will be one of the first to arrive,** 
said Niklausse. 

“A spirited boy, Niklausse,” replied the burgomaster 
sententiously ; “ but hot-headed ! He will require watch^ 
ing!” 

“He loves. Van Tricasse, — ^he loves your charmins" 
Suzel.” 

“Well, Niklausse, he shall marry her. Now that we 
have agreed on this marriage, what more can he desire ?” 

“He desires nothing. Van Tricasse, the dear boy! But, 









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FIOVARANTI HAD BEEN ACHIEVING A BRILLIANT SUCCESS IN 

“ LES HUGUENOTS.” 


Fa^: 45 - 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


45 


in short — we’ll say no more about it — he will not be the 
last to get his ticket at the box-office?’ 

“Ah, vivacious and ardent youth!” replied the burgo- 
master, recalling his own past. “ We have also been thus, 
my worthy counsellor ! We have loved — we too ! We 
have danced attendance in our day ! Till to-night, then, 
till to-night ! By-the-bye, do you know this Fiovaranti is 
a great artist.? And what a welcome he has received 
among us I It will be long before he will forget the 
applause of Quiquendone!” 

The tenor Fiovaranti was, indeed, going to sing ; Fiova- 
ranti, who, by his talents as a virtuoso, his perfect method, 
his melodious voice, provoked a real enthusiasm among the 
lovers of music in the town. 

For three weeks Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant 
success in “Les Huguenots.” The first act, interpreted 
according to the taste of the Quiquendonians, had occupied 
an entire evening of the first week of the month. — Another 
evening in the second week, prolonged by infinite andanteSy 
had elicited for the celebrated singer a real ovation. His 
success had been still more marked in the third act of 
Meyerbeer’s masterpiece. But now Fiovaranti was to 
appear in the fourth act, which was to be performed on 
this evening before an impatient public. Ah, the duet 
between Raoul and Valentine, that pathetic love-song for 
two voices, that strain so full of crescendoSy stringendoSy and 


46 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


pile crescendos— all this, sung slowly, compendiously, inter- 
minably ! Ah, how delightful ! 

At four o’clock the hall was full. The boxes, the 
orchestra, the pit, were overflowing. In the front stalls sat 
the Burgomaster Van Tricasse, Mademoiselle Van Tricasse, 
Madame Van Tricasse, and the amiable Tatanemance in a 
green bonnet ; not far off were the Counsellor Niklausse and 
his family, not forgetting the amorous Frantz. The families 
of Gustos the doctor, of Schut the advocate, of Honore 
Syntax the chief judge, of Norbet Sontman the insurance 
director, of the banker Collaert, gone mad on German 
music, and himself somewhat of an amateur, and the 
teacher Rupp, and the master of the academy, Jerome 
Resh, and the civil commissary, and so many other nota- 
bilities of the town that they could not be enumerated here 
without wearying the reader’s patience, were visible in 
different parts of the hall. 

It was customary for the Quiquendonians, while awaiting 
the rise of the curtain, to sit silent, some reading the paper, 
others whispering low to each other, some making their 
way to their seats slowly and noiselessly, others casting 
timid looks towards the bewitching beauties in the 
galleries. 

But on this evening a looker-on might have observed 
that, even before the curtain rose, there was unusual 
animation among the audience. People were restless who 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


47 


were never known to be restless before. The ladies’ fans 
fluttered with abnormal rapidity. All appeared to be 
inhaling air of exceptional stimulating power. Every one 
breathed more freely. The eyes of some became unwon- 
tedly bright, and seemed to give forth a light equal to that 
of the candles, which themselves certainly threw a more 
brilliant light over the hall. It was evident that people 
saw more clearly, though the number of candles had not 
been increased. Ah, if Doctor Ox’s experiment were being 
tried ! But it was not being tried, as yet. 

The musicians of the orchestra at last took their places. 
The first violin had gone to the stand to give a modest la 
to his colleagues. The stringed instruments, the wind 
instruments, the drums and cymbals, were in accord. The 
conductor only waited the sound of the bell to beat the 
first bar. 

The bell sounds. The fourth act begins. The allegro 
appassionato of the inter- act is played as usual, with a 
majestic deliberation which would have made Meyerbeer 
frantic, and all the majesty of which was appreciated by 
the Quiquendonian dilettanti. 

But soon the leader perceived that he was no longer 
master of his musicians. He found it difficult to restrain 
them, though usually so obedient and calm. The wind 
instruments betrayed a tendency to hasten the movements, 
and it was necessary to hold them back with a firm hand, 


48 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


for they would otherwise outstrip the stringed instruments; 
which, from a musical point of view, would have been dis- 
astrous. The bassoon himself, the son of Josse Lietrinck 
the apothecary, a well-bred young man, seemed to lose his 
self-control. 

Meanwhile Valentine has begun her recitative, I am 
alone,” &c. ; but she hurries it. 

The leader and all his musicians, perhaps unconsciously, 
follow her in her cantabile, which should be taken de- 
liberately, like a V® it is. When Raoul appears 
at the door at the bottoni of the stage, between the 
moment when Valentine goes to him and that when she 
conceals herself in the chamber at the side, a quarter of an 
hour does not elapse ; while formerly, according to the 
traditions of the Quiquendone theatre, this recitative of 
thirty-seven bars was wont to last just thirty-seven 
minutes. 

Saint Bris, Nevers, Cavannes, and the Catholic nobles 
have appeared, somewhat prematurely, perhaps, upon the 
scene. The composer has marked allergo pomposg on the 
score. The orchestra and the lords proceed allegro indeed, 
but not at all pomposo^ and at the chorus, in the famous 
scene of the benediction of the poniards,” they no longer 
keep to the enjoined allegro. Singers and musicians broke 
away impetuously. The leader does not even attempt 
to restrain them. Nor do the public protest ; on the con- 


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THEY HUSTLE EACH OTHER TO GET OUT, 


I 


Page 51 













DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


49 


trary, the people find themselves carried away, and see 
that they are involved in the movement, and that the 
movement responds to the impulses of their souls. 

“ Will you, with me, deliver the land. 

From troubles increasing, an impious band?” 

They promise, they swear. Nevers has scarcely time to 
protest, and to sing that among his ancestors were many 
soldiers, but never an assassin.” He is arrested. The 
police and the aldermen rush forward and rapidly swear 
“to strike all at once.” Sainf Bris shouts the recitative 
which summons the Catholics to vengeance. The three 
monks, with white scarfs, hasten in by the door at the 
back of Nevers’s room, without making any account of the 
stage directions, which enjoin on them to advance slowly. 
Already all the artists have drawn sword or poniard, 
which the three monks bless in a trice. The soprani 
tenors, bassos, attack the allegro furioso with cries of rage, 
and of a dramatic f time they make it -J quadrille time. 
Then they rush out, bellowing, — 

** At midnight, 

Noiselessly, 

God wills it, 

Yes, 

At midnight.” 

At this moment the audience start to their feet. Every- 
body is agitated—in the boxes, the pit, the galleries. It 

E 


53 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


seems as if the spectators are about to rush upon the stage, 
the Burgomaster Van Tricasse at their head, to join with 
the conspirators and annihilate tfie Huguenots, whose re- 
ligious opinions, however, they share. They applaud, call 
before the curtain, make loud acclamations ! Tatanemance 
grasps her bonnet with feverish hand. The candles throw 
out a lurid glow of light. 

Raoul, instead of slowly raising the curtain, tears it 
apart with a superb gesture and finds himself confronting 
Valentine. 

At last ! It is the grand duet, and it starts off allegro 
vivace. Raoul does not wait for Valentine’s pleading, and 
Valentine does not wait for Raoul’s responses. 

The fine passage beginning, “ Danger is passing, time is 
flying,” becomes one of those rapid airs which have made 
Offenbach famous, when he composes a dance for con- 
spirators. The andante amoroso^ “ Thou hast said it, aye, 
thou lovest me,” becomes a real vivace fnrioso, and the 
violoncello ceases to imitate the inflections of the singer’s 
voice, as indicated in the composer’s score. In vain Raoul 
cries, Speak on, and prolong the ineffable slumber of my 
soul.” Valentine cannot '‘prolong.” It is evident that an 
unaccustomed fire devours her. Her ds and her ds above 
the stave were dreadfully shrill. He struggles, he gesticu- 
lates, he is all in a glow. 

The alarum is heard ; the bell resounds ; but what a 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


51 


panting bell ! The bell-ringer has evidently lost his self- 
control. It is a frightful toscin, which violently struggles 
against the fury of the orchestra. 

Finally the air which ends this magnificent act, begin- 
ning, No more love, no more intoxication, O the remorse 
that oppresses me !” which the .composer marks allegro con 
motOy becomes a wild prestissimo. You would say an 
express-train was whirling by. The alarum resounds again. 
Valentine falls fainting. Raoul precipitates himself from 
the window. 

It was high time. The orchestra, really intoxicated, 
could not have gone on. The leader’s baton is no longer 
anything but a broken stick on the prompter’s box. The 
violin strings are broken, and their necks twisted. In his 
fury the drummer has burst his drum. The counter-bassist 
has perched on the top of his musical monster. The first 
clarionet has swallowed the reed of his instrument, and the 
second hautboy is chewing his reed keys. The groove of 
the trombone is strained, and finally the unhappy cornist 
cannot withdraw his hand from the bell of his horn, into 
which he had thrust it too far. 

And the audience ! The audience, panting, all in a heat, 
gesticulates and howls. All the faces are as red as if a fire 
were burning within their bodies. They crowd each other, 
hustle each other to get out — the men without hats, the 
women without mantles! They elbow each other in the 


E 2 


52 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


corridors, crush between the doors, quarrel, fight ! There 
are no longer any officials, any burgomaster. All are equal 
amid this infernal frenzy ! 

Some moments after, when all have reached the street, 
each one resumes his habitual tranquillity, and peaceably 
enters his house, with a confused remembrance of what he 
has just experienced. 

The fourth act of the ‘^Huguenots,” which formerly lasted 
six hours, began, on this evening at half-past four, and 
ended at twelve minutes before five. 

It had only lasted eighteen minutes ! 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


53 


CHAPTER VIII. 

IN WHICH THE ANCIENT AND SOLEMN GERMAN WALTZ 
BECOMES A WHIRLWIND. 

But if the spectators, on leaving the theatre, resumed 
their customary calm, if they quietly regained their homes, 
preserving only a sort of passing stupefaction, they had 
none the less undergone a remarkable exaltation, and 
overcome and weary as if they had committed some 
excess of dissipation, they fell heavily upon their beds. 

The next day each Quiquendonian had a kind of recol- 
lection of what had occurred the evening before. One 
missed his hat, lost in the hubbub ; another a coat-flap, 
torn in the brawl ; one her delicately fashioned shoe, 
another her best mantle. Memory returned to these 
worthy people, and with it a certain shame for their unjus- 
tifiable agitation. It seemed to them an orgy in which 
they were the unconscious heroes and heroines. They did 
not speak of it ; they did not wish to think of it. But the 


54 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


most astounded personage in the town was Van Tricasse 
the burgomaster. 

The next morning, on waking, he could not find his wig. 
Lotche looked everywhere for it, but in vain. The wig 
had remained on the field of battle. As for having it pub- 
licly claimed by Jean Mistrol, the town-crier, — no, it would 
not do. It were better to lose the wig than to advertise 
himself thus, as he had the honour to be the first magis- 
trate of Quiquendone. 

The worthy Van Tricasse was reflecting upon this, ex- 
tended beneath his sheets, with bruised body, heavy head, 
furred tongue, and burning breast. He felt no desire to 
get up ; on the contrary ; and his brain worked more 
during this morning than it had probably worked before 
for forty years. The worthy magistrate recalled to his 
mind all the incidents of the incomprehensible performance. 
He connected them with the events which had taken place 
shortly before at Doctor Ox’s reception. He tried to dis- 
cover the causes of the singular excitability which, on two 
occasions, had betrayed itself in the best citizens of the 
town. 

‘‘What can he going on.?” he asked himself. *‘What 
giddy spirit has taken possession of my peaceable town of 
Quiquendone .? Are we about to go mad, and must we 
make the town one vast asylum .? For yesterday we were 
all there, notables, counsellors, judges, advocates, physi- 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


55 


cians, schoolmasters ; and all, if my memory serves me, — 
all of us were assailed by this excess of furious folly ! But 
what was there in that infernal music ? It is inexplicable ! 
Yet I certainly ate or drank nothing which could put me 
into such a state. No ; yesterday I had for dinner a slice 
of overdone veal, several spoonfuls of spinach with sugar, 
eggs, and a little beer and water, — that couldn’t get into 
my head ! No ! There is something that I cannot explain, 
and as, after all, I am responsible for the conduct of the 
citizens, I will have an investigation.” 

But the investigation, though decided upon by the 
municipal council, produced no result. If the facts were 
clear, the causes escaped the sagacity of the magistrates. 
Besides, tranquillity had been restored in the public mind, 
and with tranquillity, forgetfulness of the strange scenes of 
the theatre. The newspapers avoided speaking of them, 
and the account of the performance which appeared in the 
Quiquendone Memorial,” made no allusion to this in- 
toxication of the entire audience. 

Meanwhile, though the town resumed its habitual phlegm, 
and became apparently Flemish as before, it was observable 
that, at bottom, the character and temperament of the 
people changed little by little. One might have truly said, 
with Dominique Gustos, the doctor, that “their nerves 
were affected.” 

Let us explain. This undoubted change only took place 


56 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


under certain conditions. When the Quiquendonians 
passed through the streets of the town, walked in the 
squares or along the Vaar, they were always the cold and 
methodical people of former days. So, too, when they 
remained at home, some working with their hands and 
others with their heads, — these doing nothing, those think- 
ing nothing, — their private life was silent, inert, vegetating 
as before. No quarrels, no household squabbles, no acce- 
leration in the beating of the heart, no excitement of the 
brain. The mean of their pulsations remained as it was of 
old, from fifty to fifty-two per minute. 

But, strange and inexplicable phenomenon though it was, 
which would have defied the sagacity of the most ingenious 
physiologists of the day, if the inhabitants of Quiquendone 
did not change in their home life, they were visibly changed 
in their civil life and in their relations between man and 
man, to which it leads. 

If they met together in some public edifice, it did not 
“work well,” as Commissary Passauf expressed it. On 
’change, at the town-hall, in the amphitheatre of the 
academy, at the sessions of the council, as well as at the 
reunions of the savantSy a strange excitement seized the 
assembled citizens. Their relations with each other be-^ 
came embarrassing before they had been together an hour. 
In two hours the discussion degenerated into an angry dis- 
pute. Heads became heated, and personalities were used. 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


57 


Even at church, during the sermon, the faithful could not 
listen to Van Stabel, the minister, in patience, and he 
threw himself about in the pulpit and lectured his flock 
with far more than his usual severity. At last this state 
of things brought about altercations more grave, alas ! than 
that between Gustos and Schut, and if they did not require 
the interference of the authorities, it was because the anta- 
gonists, after returning home, found there, with its calm, 
forgetfulness of the offences offered and received. 

This peculiarity could not be . observed by these minds, 
which were absolutely incapable of recognizing what was 
passing in them. One person only in the town, he whose 
office the council had thought of suppressing for thirty 
years, Micl ael Passauf, had remarked that this excitement, 
which was absent from private houses, quickly revealed 
itself in public edifices ; and he asked himself, not without 
a certain anxiety, what would happen if this infection 
should ever develope itself in the family mansions, and if 
the epidemic— this was the word he used — should extend 
through the streets of the town. Then there would be no 
more forgetfulness of insults, no more tranquillity, no inter- 
mission in the delirium; but a permanent inflammation, 
which would inevitably bring the Quiquendonians into 
collision with each other. 

'‘What would happen then?” Commissary Passauf 
asked himself in terror. “ How could these furious savages 


53 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


be arrested ^ How check these goaded temperaments ? 
My office would be no longer a sinecure, and the council 
would be obliged to double my salary — unless it should 
arrest me myself, for disturbing the public peace ! ” 

These very reasonable fears began to be realized. The 
infection spread from ’change, the theatre, the church, the 
town-hall, the academy, the market, into private houses, 
and that in less than a fortnight after the terrible perform- 
ance of the Huguenots.” 

Its first symptoms appeared in the house of Collaert, the 
banker. 

That wealthy personage gave a ball, or at least a dancing- 
party, to the notabilities of the town. He had issued, 
some months before, a loan of thirty thousand francs, three 
quarters of which had been subscribed ; and to celebrate 
this financial success, he had opened his drawing-rooms, 
and given a party to his fellow-citizens. 

Everybody knows that Flemish parties are innocent and 
tranquil enough, the principal expense of which is usually 
in beer and syrups. Some conversation on the weather, 
the appearance of the crops, the fine condition of the 
gardens, the care of flowers, and especially of tulips ; a slow 
and measured dance, from time to time, perhaps a minuet ; 
sometimes a waltz, but one of those German waltzes which 
achieve a turn and a half per minute, and during which the 
dancers hold each other as far apart as their arms will per- 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


59 


mit, — such is the usual fashion of the balls attended by the 
anstocratie society of Quiquendone. The polka, after being 
altered to four time, had tried to become accustomed to it ; 
but the dancers always lagged behind the orchestra, no 
matter how slow the measure, and it had to be abandoned. 

These peaceable reunions, in which the youths and 
maidens enjoyed an honest and moderate pleasure, had 
never been attended by any outburst of ill-nature. Why, 
then, on this evening at Collaert the banker’s, did the 
syrups seem to be transformed into heady wines, into 
sparkling champagne, into heating punches ? Why, towards 
the middle of the evening, did a sort of mysterious intoxi- 
cation take possession of the guests ? Why did the minuet 
become a jig ? Why did the orchestra hurry with its har- 
monies } Why did the candles, just as at the theatre, burn 
with unwonted refulgence ? What electric current invaded" 
the banker’s drawing-rooms ? How happened it that the 
couples held each other so closely, and clasped each other’s 
hands so convulsively, that the ^‘cavaliers seuls” made 
themselves conspicuous by certain extraordinary steps in 
that figure usually so grave, so solemn, so majestic, so very 
proper ? 

Alas ! what CEdipus could have answered these unsolv- 
able questions ? Commissary Passauf, who was present at 
the party, saw the storm coming distinctly, but he could 
not control it or fly from it, and he felt a kind of intoxica- 


6o 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


tion entering his own brain. All his physical and emo- 
tional faculties increased in intensity. He was seen, several 
times, to throw himseif upon the confectionery and devour 
the dishes, as if he had just broken a long fast. 

The animation of the ball was increasing all this while. 
A long murmur, like a dull buzzing, escaped from all 
breasts. They danced — really danced. The feet were 
agitated by increasing frenzy. The faces became as purple 
as those of Silenus. The eyes shone like carbuncles. The 
general fermentation rose to the highest pitch. 

And when the orchestra thundered out the waltz in 
‘‘Der Freyschiitz,” — ^when this waltz, so German, and with 
a movement so slow, was attacked with wild arms by the 
musicians, — ah ! it was no longer a waltz, but an insensate 
whirlwind, a giddy rotation, a gyration worthy of being led 
by some Mephistopheles^ beating the measure vath a fire- 
brand ! Then a galop, an infernal galop, which lasted an 
hour without any one being able to stop it, whirled off, in 
its windings, across the halls, the drawing-rooms, the ante- 
chambers, by the staircases, from the cellar to the garret 
of the opulent mansion, the young men and young girls, the 
fathers and mothers, people of every age, of every weight, 
of both sexes; Collaert, the fat banker, and Madame 
Collaert, and the counsellors, and the magistrates, and the 
chief justice, and Niklausse, and Madame Van Tricasse, 
and the Burgomaster Van Tricasse, and the Commissary 



IT WAS NO LONGER A WALTZ 


Page 6o 








4 







I 




> 


4 











DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


6i 


Passauf himself, who never could recall afterwards who had 
been his partner on that terrible evening. 

But she did not forget ! And ever since that day she has 
seen in her dreams the fiery commissary, enfolding her in 
an impassioned embrace ! And ^^she” — was the amiable 
Tatan^mance ! 


62 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN WHICH DOCTOR OX AND YGENE, HIS ASSISTANT, 
SAY A FEW WORDS. 


Well, Yg^ne 

‘‘Well, master, all is ready. The laying of the pipes is 
finished.” 

“ At last ! Now, then, we are going to operate on a large 
scale, on the masses T* 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


63 


CHAPTER X. 

IN WHICH IT WILL BE SEEN THAT THE EPIDEMIC 
INVADES THE ENTIRE TOWN, AND WHAT EFFECT 
IT PRODUCES. 

During the following months the evil, in place of sub- 
siding, became more extended. From private houses the 
epidemic spread into the streets. The town of Quiquen- 
done was no longer to be recognized. 

A phenomenon yet stranger than those which had 
already happened, now appeared ; not only the animal 
kingdom, but the vegetable kingdom itself, became subject 
to the mysterious influence. 

According to the ordinary course of things, epidemics are 
special in their operation. Those which attack humanity 
spare the animals, and those which attack the animals spare 
the vegetables. A horse was never inflicted with small- 
pox, nor a man with the cattle-plague, nor do sheep suffer 
from the potato-rot. But here all the laws of nature 


64 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


seemed to be overturned. Not only w.ere the character, 
temperament, and ideas of the townsfolk changed, but the 
domestic animals — dogs and cats, horses and cows, asses 
and goats — suffered from this epidemic influence, as if their 
habitual equilibrium had been changed. The plants them- 
selves were infected by a similar strange metamorphosis. 

In the gardens and vegetable patches and orchards very 
curious symptoms manifested themselves. Climbing plants 
climbed more audaciously. Tufted plants became more 
tufted than ever. Shrubs became trees. Cereals, scarcely 
sown, showed their little green heads, and gained, in the 
same length of time, as much in inches as formerly, under 
the most favourable circumstances, they had gained in 
fractions. Asparagus attained the height of several feet ; the 
artichokes sw'elled to the size of melons, the melons to the 
size of pumpkins, the pumpkins to the size of gourds, the 
gourds to the size of the belfry bell, which measured, in 
truth, nine feet in diameter. The cabbages were bu3hes, 
and the mushrooms umbrellas. 

The fruits did not lag behind the vegetables. It required 
two persons to eat a strawberry, and four to consume a 
pear. The grapes also attained the enormous proportions 
of those so well depicted by Poussin in his '' Return of the 
Envoys to the Promised Land.” 

It was the same with the flowers ; immense violets spread 
the most penetrating perfumes through the air; exag- 



IT requjri:d two persoxs 


TO EAT A STRAWEERRV. 


Page 64 









r 










I 






DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


65 


gerated roses shone with the brightest colours ; lilies 
formed, in a few days, impenetrable copses ; geraniums, 
daisies, camelias, rhododendrons, invaded the garden 
walks, and stifled each other. And the tulips, — those 
dear liliaceous plants so dear to the Flemish heart, — 
what emotion they must have caused to their zealous 
cultivators ! The worthy Van Bistrom nearly fell over 
backwards, one day, on seeing in his garden an enor- 
mous “Tulipa gesneriana,” a gigantic monster, whose 
cup aflbrded space to a nest for a whole family of 
robins ! ” 

The entire town flocked to see this floral phenomenon, 
and renamed it the ‘'Tulipa quiquendonia.” 

But alas ! if these plants, these fruits, these flowers, grew 
visibly to the naked eye, if all the vegetables insisted on 
assuming colossal proportions, if the brilliancy of their 
colours and perfume intoxicated the smell and the sight, 
they quickly withered. The air which they absorbed rapidly 
exhausted them, and they soon died, faded, and dried up. 

Such was the fate of the famous tulip, which, after 
several days of splendour, became emaciated, and fell 
lifeless. 

It was soon the same with the domestic animals, from 
the house-dog to the stable pig, from the canary in its cage 
to the turkey of the back-court. It must be said that in 
ordinary times these animals were not less phlegmatic than 

F 


66 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


their masters. The dogs and cats vegetated rather than 
lived. They never betrayed a wag of pleasure nor a snarl 
of wrath. Their tails moved no more than if they had been 
made of bronze. Such a thing as a bite or scratch from 
any of them had not been known from time immemorial. 
As for mad dogs, they were looked upon as imaginary 
beasts, like the griffins and the rest in the menagerie of the 
apocalypse. 

But what a change had taken place in a few months, the 
smallest incidents of which we are trying to reproduce! 
Dogs and cats began to show teeth and claws. Several 
executions had taken place after reiterated offences. A 
horse was seen, for the first time, to take his bit in his 
teeth and rush through the streets of Quiquendone ; an 
ox was observed to precipitate itself, with lowered horns, 
upon one of his herd ; an ass was seen to turn himself 
ever, with his legs in the air, in the Place Saint Ernuph, 
and bray as ass never brayed before ; a sheep, actually a 
sheep, defended valiantly the cutlets within him from the 
butcher’s knife. 

Van Tricasse, the burgomaster, was forced to make 
police regulations concerning the domestic animals, as, 
seized with lunacy, they rendered the streets of Ouiquen- 
done unsafe. 

But alas! if the animals were mad, the men were 
scarcely less so. No age was spared by the scourge. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


67 


Babies soon became quite insupportable, though till now 
so easy to bring up; and for the first time Honor6 
Syntax, the judge, was obliged to apply the rod to his 
youthful offspring. 

There was a kind of insurrection at the high school, and 
the dictionaries became formidable missiles in the classes. 
The scholars would not submit to be shut in, and, besides, 
the infection took the teachers themselves, who over- 
whelmed the boys and girls with extravagant tasks and 
punishments. 

Another strange phenomenon occurred. All these Qui- 
quendonians, so sober before, whose chief food had been 
whipped creams, committed wild excesses in their eating 
and drinking. Their usual regimen no longer sufficed. 
Each stomach was transformed into a gulf, and it became 
necessary to fill this gulf by the most energetic means. 
The consumption of the town was trebled. Instead of two 
repasts they had six. Many cases of indigestion were 
reported. The Counsellor Niklausse could not satisfy his 
hunger. Van Tricasse found it impossible to assuage his 
thirst, and remained in a state of rabid semi-intoxication. 

In short, the most alarming symptoms manifested them- 
selves and increased from day to day. Drunken people 
staggered in the streets, and these were often citizens of 
high position. 

Dominique Gustos, the physician, had plenty to do with 


68 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


the heartburns, inflammations, and nervous affections, which 
proved to what a strange degree the nerves of the people 
had been irritated. 

There were daily quarrels and altercations in the once 
deserted but now crowded streets of Quiquendone ; for 
nobody could any longer stay at home. It was necessary 
to establish a new police force to control the disturbers of 
the public peace. A prison-cage was established in the 
Town Hall, and speedily became full, night and day, 
of refractory offenders. Commissary Passauf was in. 
despair. 

A marriage was concluded in less than two months, — 
such a thing had never been seen before. Yes, the son of 
Rupp, the schoolmaster, wedded the daughter of Augustine 
de Rovere, and that fifty-seven days only after he had 
petitioned for her hand and heart ! 

Other marriages were decided upon, which, in old 
times, would have remained in doubt and discussion 
for years. The burgomaster perceived that his own 
daughter, the charming Suzel, was escaping from his 
hands. 

As for dear Tatandmance, she had dared to sound Com- 
missary Passauf on the subject of a union, which seemed to 
her to combine every element of happiness, fortune, honour, 
youth ! 

At last, — to reach the depths of abomination, — a duel took 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


69 


place ! Yes, a duel with pistols — horse-pistols — at seventy- 
five paces, with ball-cartridges. And between whom } Our 
readers will never believe ! 

Between M. Frantz Niklausse, the gentle angler, and 
young Simon Collaert, the wealthy banker’s son. 

And the cause of this duel was the burgomaster’s 
daughter, for whom Simon discovered himself to be fired 
with passion, and whom he refused to yield to the claims 
of an audacious rival ! 


70 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER XL 

IN WHICH THE QUIQUENDONIANS ADOPT A HEROIC 
RESOLUTION. 

We have seen to what a deplorable condition the people 
of Quiquendone were reduced. Their heads were in a fer- 
ment. They no longer knew or recognized themselves. 
The most peaceable citizens had become quarrelsome. If 
you looked at them askance, they would speedily send you 
a challenge. Some let their moustaches grow, and several 
— the most belligerent — curled them up at the ends. 

This being their condition, the administration of the 
town and the maintenance of order in the streets became 
difficult tasks, for the government had not been organized 
for such a state of things. The burgomaster — that worthy 
Van Tricasse whom we have seen so placid, so dull, so 
incapable of coming to any decision — the burgomaster 
became intractable. His house resounded with the sharp- 
ness of his voice. He made twenty decisions a day, scold- 


DOCTOR OX*S EXPERIMENT. 


71 


ing his officials, and himself enforcing the regulations of his 
administration. 

Ah, what a change ! The amiable and tranquil mansion 
of the burgomaster, that good Flemish home — where was 
its former calm ? What changes had taken place in your 
household economy ! Madame Van Tricasse had become 
acrid, whimsical, harsh. Her husband sometimes suc- 
ceeded in drowning her voice by talking louder than she, 
but could tiot silence her. The petulant humour of this 
worthy dame was excited by everything. Nothing went 
right. The servants offended her every moment. Tata- 
nemance, her sister-in-law, who was not less irritable, 
replied sharply to her. M. Van Tricasse naturally sup- 
ported Lotche, his servant, as is the case in all good house- 
holds ; and this permanently exasperated Madame, who 
constantly disputed, discussed, and made scenes with hsr 
husband. 

“What on earth is the matter with us?” cried the 
unhappy burgomaster. “ What is this fire that is devour- 
ing us ? Are we possessed with the devil ? Ah, Madame 
Van Tricasse, Madame Van Tricasse, you will end by 
making me die before you, and thus violate all the tradi- 
tions of the family !” 

The reader will not have forgotten the strange custom 
by which M. Van Tricasse would become a widower and 
marry again, so as not to break the chain of descent. 


72 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


Meanwhile, this disposition of all minds produced other 
curious effects worthy of note. This excitement, the cause 
of which has so far escaped us, brought about unexpected 
physiological changes. Talents, hitherto unrecognized, 
betrayed themselves. Aptitudes were suddenly revealed. 
Artists, before common-place, displayed new ability. 
Politicians and authors arose. Orators proved themselves 
equal to the most arduous debates, and on every question 
inflamed audiences which were quite ready to t>e inflamed. 
From the sessions of the council, this movement spread to 
the public political meetings, and a club was formed at 
Quiquendone ; whilst twenty newspapers, the “ Quiquen- 
done Signal,” the “Quiquendone Impartial,” the “Qui- 
quendone Radical,” and so on, written in an inflammatory 
style, raised the rnost important questions. 

But what about ? you will ask. Apropos of everything, 
and of nothing ; apropos of the Oudenarde tower, which 
was falling, and which some wished to pull down, and 
others to prop up ; apropos of the police regulations issued 
by the council, which 5ome obstinate citizens threatened 
to resist ; apropos of the sweeping of the gutters, repair- 
ing the sewers, and so on. Nor did the enraged orators 
confine themselves to the internal administration of the 
town. Carried on by the current they went further, and 
essayed to plunge their fellow-citizens into the hazards of 


war. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


73 


Quiquendone had had for eight or nine hundred years a 
casus belli of the best quality ; but she had preciously 
laid it up like a relic, and there had seemed some proba- 
bility that it would become effete, and no longer service- 
able. 

This was what had given rise to the casus belli. 

It is not generally known that Quiquendone, in this cosy 
corner of ^Flanders, lies next to the little town of Virga- 
men. The territories of the two communities are con- 
tiguous. 

Well, in 1185, some time before Count Baldwin’s depar- 
ture to the Crusades, a Virgamen cow — not a cow belong- 
ing to a citizen, but a cow which was common property, let 
it be observed — audaciously ventured to pasture on the 
territory of Quiquendone. This unfortunate beast had 
scarcely eaten three mouthfuls ; but the offence, the abuse, 
the crime — whatever you will — was committed and duly 
indicted, for the magistrates, at that time, had already 
begun to know how to write. 

We will take revenge at the proper moment,” said 
simply Natalis Van Tricasse, the thirty-second predecessor 
of the burgomaster of this story, “ and the Virgamenians 
will lose nothing by waiting.” 

The Virgamenians were forewarned. They waited 
thinking, without doubt, that the remembrance of the 
offence would fade away with the lapse of time ; and really, 


74 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


for several centuries, they lived on good terms with their 
neighbours of Quiquendone. 

But they counted without their hosts, or rather without 
this strange epidemic, which, radically changing the cha- 
racter of the Quiquendonians, aroused their dormant 
vengeance. 

It was at the club of the Rue Monstrelet that the trucu- 
lent orator Schut, abruptly introducing the subject to his 
hearers, inflamed them with the expressions and metaphors 
used on such occasions. He recalled the offence, the 
injury which had been done to Quiquendone, and which a 
nation jealous of its rights” could not admit as a prece- 
dent ; he showed the insult to be still existing, the wound 
still bleeding : he spoke of certain special head-shakings 
on the part of the people of Virgamen, which indicated in 
what degree of contempt they regarded the people of Qui- 
quendone ; he appealed to his fellow-citizens, who, uncon- 
sciously perhaps, had supported this mortal insult for long 
centuries ; he adjured the ^‘children of the ancient town” 
to have no other purpose than to obtain a substantial repa- 
ration. And, lastly, he made an appeal to all the living 
energies of the nation !” 

With what enthusiasm these words, so new to Qui- 
quendonian ears, were greeted, may be surmised, but 
cannot be told. All the auditors rose, and with extended 
arms demanded war with loud cries. Never had the 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


75 


Advocate Schut achieved such a success, and it must be 
avowed that his triumphs were not few. 

The burgomaster, the counsellor, all the notabilities 
present at this memorable meeting, would have vainly- 
attempted to resist the popular outburst. Besides, they 
had no desire to do so, and cried as loud, if not louder, 
than the rest, — 

To the frontier ! To the frontier ! ” 

As the frontier was but three kilometers from the walls 
of Quiquendone, it is certain that the Virgamenians ran a 
real danger, for they might easily be invaded without 
having had time to look about them. 

Meanwhile, Josse Liefrinck, the worthy chemist, who 
alone had preserved his senses on this grave occasion, tried 
to make his fellow-citizens comprehend that guns, cannon, 
and generals were equally wanting to their design. 

They replied to him, not without many impatient 
gestures, that these generals, cannons, and guns would be 
improvised ; that the right and love of country sufficed, 
and rendered a people irresistible. 

Hereupon the burgomaster himself came forward, and in 
a sublime harangue made short work of those pusillanimous 
people who disguise their fear under a veil of prudence, 
which veil he tore off with a patriotic hand. 

At this sally it seemed as if the hall would fall in under 
the applause. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


76 


The vote was eagerly demanded, and was taken amid 
acclamations. 

The cries of To Virgamen ! to Virgamen ! re- 
doubled. 

The burgomaster then took it upon himself to put the 
armies in motion, and in the name of the town he promised 
the honours of a triumph, such as was given in the times 
of the Romans to that one of its generals who should 
return victorious. 

Meanwhile, Josse Liefrinck, who was an obstinate fellow, 
and did not regard himself as beaten, though he really had 
been, insisted on making another observation. He wished 
to remark that the triumph was only accorded at Rome to 
those victorious generals who had killed five thousand of 
the enemy. 

“Well, well!” cried the meeting deliriously. 

“ And as the population of the town of Virgamen con- 
sists of but three thousand five hundred and seventy-five 
inhabitants, it would be difficult, unless the same person 
was killed several times — ” 

But they did not let the luckless logician finish, and he 
was turned out, hustled and bruised. 

“ Citizens,” said Pulmacher the grocer, who usually sold 
groceries by retail, “ whatever this cowardly apothecary 
may have said, I engage by myself to kill five thousand 
Virgamcnians, if you will accept my services!’^ 



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DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


77 


“Five thousand five hundred !” cried a yet more resolute 
patriot. 

“Six thousand six hundred!” retorted the grocer. 

“Seven thousand!” cried Jean Orbideck, the confec- 
tioner of the Rue Hemling, who was on the road to a 
fortune by making whipped creams. 

“ Adjudged ! ” exclaimed the burgomaster Van Tricasse, 
on finding that no one else rose on the bid. 

And this was- how Jean Orbideck the confectioner 
became general-in-chief of the forces of Quiquendone, 


78 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER XII. 

IN WHICH YGfeNE, THE ASSISTANT, GIVES A REASONABLE 
PIECE OF ADVICE, WHICH IS EAGERLY REJECTED BY 
DOCTOR OX. 

‘^Well, master,” said Ygene next day, as he poured the 
pails of sulphuric acid into the troughs of the great 
battery. 

‘*Well,” resumed Doctor Ox, ‘^wasl not right.? See 
to what not only the physical developments of a whole 
nation, but its morality, its dignity, its talents, its political 
sense, have come ! It is only a question of molecules.” 
‘*No doubt ; but — ” 

‘‘But—” 

“ Do you not think that matters have gone far enough, 
and that these poor devils should not be excited beyond 
measure 

“ No, no ! ” cried the doctor ; “ no I I will go on to the 
endl” 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


79 


“ As you will, master ; the experiment, how'ever, seems 
to me conclusive, and I think it time to — ” 

“ To— ’ 

To close the valve.” 

“You’d better!” cried Doctor Ox. "If you attempt 
it, ni throttle you 1” 


8o 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

IN WHICH IT IS ONCE MORE PROVED THAT BY TAKING 
HIGH GROUND ALL HUMAN LITTLENESSES MAY BE 
OVERLOOKED. 

'‘You say.?^’ asked the Burgomaster Van Tricasse of the 
Counsellor Niklausse. 

I say that this war is necessary,” replied Niklausse, 
firmly, and that the time has come to avenge this insult.” 
“Well, I repeat to you,” replied the burgomaster, tartly, 
that if the people of Quiquendone do not profit by this 
occasion to vindicate their rights, they will be unworthy of 
their name.” 

“And as for me, I maintain that we ought, witliour 
delay, to collect our forces and lead them to the front.” 

“ Really, monsieur, really !” replied Van Tricasse. “ And 
do you speak thus to me V 

“ To yourself, monsieur the burgomaster ; and you shall 
hear the truth, unwelcome as it may be.” 




Page 8x 




DOCTQR ox’s EXPERIMENT, 


Si 


^^And you shall hear it yourself, counsellor,” returned 
Van Tricasse in a passion, for it will come better from 
my mouth than from yours ! Yes, monsieur, yes, any 
delay would be dishonourable. The town of Quiquendone 
has waited nine hundred years for the moment to take its 
revenge, and whatever you may say, whether it pleases 
you or not, we shall march upon the enemy.” 

“Ah, you take it thus!” replied Niklausse harshly. 
“Very well, monsieur, we will march without you, if it does 
not please you to go,” 

“A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank, monsieur !” 

“ And that of a counsellor also, monsieur.” 

“ You insult me by thwarting all my wishes,” cried the 
burgomaster, whose fists seemed likely to hit out before 
long. 

“ And you insult me equally by doubting my patriotism,” 
cried Niklausse, who was equally ready for a tussle. 

“I tell you, monsieur, that the army of Quiquendone 
shall be put in motion within two days !” 

“ And I repeat to you, monsieur, that forty-eight hours 
shall not pass before we shall have marched upon the 
enemy !” 

It is easy to see, from this fragment of conversation, that 
the two speakers supported exactly the same idea. Both 
wished for hostilities ; but as their excitement disposed 
them to altercation, Niklausse would not listen to Van 


G 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


8 ^ 

Tricasse, nor Van Tricasse to Niklausse. Had they been 
of contrary opinions on this grave question, had the bur- 
gomaster favoured war and the counsellor insisted on peace, 
the quarrel would not have been more violent. These two 
old friends gazed fiercely at each other. By the quickened 
beating of their hearts, their red faces, their contracted 
pupils, the trembling of their muscles, their harsh voices, it 
might be conjectured that they were ready to come to 
blows. 

But the striking of a large clock happily checked the 
adversaries at the moment when they seemed on the point 
of assaulting each other. 

** At last the hour has come ! ” cried the burgomaster. 

“What hour.?” asked the counsellor. 

“ The hour to go to the belfry tower.” ' 

“ It is true, and whether it pleases you or not, I shall go, 
monsieur.” 

“And I too.” 

“ Let us go I” 

“Let us go !” 

It might have been supposed from these last words that 
a collision had occurred, and that the adversaries were pro- 
ceeding to a duel ; but it was not so. It had been agreed 
that the burgomaster and the counsellor, as the two prin- 
cipal dignitaries of the town, should repair to the Town 
Hall, and there show themselves on the high tower which 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


83 


overlooked Quiquendone ; that they should examine the 
surrounding country, so as to make the best strategetic 
plan for the advance of their troops. 

Though they were in accord on this subject, they did 
not cease to quarrel bitterly as they went. Their loud 
voices were heard resounding in the streets ; but all the 
passers-by were now accustomed to this ; the exasperation 
of the dignitaries seemed quite natural, and no one took 
notice of it. Under the circumstances, a calm man would 
have been regarded as a monster. 

The burgomaster and the counsellor, having reached the 
porch of the belfry, were in a paroxysm of fury. They 
were no longer red, but pale. This terrible discussion, 
though they had the same idea, had produced internal 
spasms, and every one knows that paleness shows that 
anger has reached its last limits. 

At the foot of the narrow tower staircase there was a 
real explosion. Who should go up first Who should 
first creep up the winding steps.? Truth compels us to 
say that there was a tussle, and that the Counsellor Nik- 
lausse, forgetful of all that he owed to his superior, to the 
supreme magistrate of the town, pushed Van Tricasse 
violently back, and dashed up the staircase first. 

Both ascended, denouncing and raging at each other 
at every step. It was to be feared that a terrible 
climax would occur on the summit of the tower, which 


G 2 


84 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


rose three hundred and fifty-seven feet above the pave- 
ment. 

The two enemies soon got out of breath, however, and 
in a little while, at the eightieth step, they began to move 
up heavily, breathing loud and short. 

Then — was it because of their being out of breath } — 
their wrath subsided, or at least only betrayed itself by a 
succession of unseemly epithets. They became silent, and, 
strange to say, it seemed as if their excitement diminished 
as they ascended higher above the town. A sort of lull 
took place in their minds. Their brains became cooler, 
and simmered down like a coffee-pot when taken away 
from the fire. Why ? 

We cannot answer this *^why;” but the truth is that, 
having reached a certain landing-stage, two hundred and 
sixty-six feet above ground, the two adversaries sat down 
and, really more calm, looked at each other without any 
anger in their faces. 

“How high it is!” said the burgomaster, passing his 
handkerchief over his rubicund face. 

“Very high 1” returned the counsellor. “ Do you know 
that we have gone fourteen feet higher than the Church of 
Saint Michael at Hamburg ? ” 

“ I know it,” replied the burgomaster, in a tone of vanity 
very pardonable in the chief magistrate of Quiquendone. 

The two notabilities soon resumed their ascent, casting 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


85 


curious glances through the loopholes pierced in the tower 
walls. The burgomaster had taken the head of the proces- 
sion, without any remark on the part of the counsellor. It 
even happened that at about the three hundred and fourth 
step, Van Tricasse being completely tired out, Niklausse 
kindly pushed him from behind. The burgomaster offered 
no resistance to this, and, when he reached the platform of 
the tower, said graciously, — 

Thanks, Niklausse ; I will do the same for you one 
day.” 

A little while before it had been two wild beasts, ready 
to tear each other to pieces, who had presented themselves 
at the foot of the tower ; it was now two friends who 
reached its Summit. 

The weather Was superb. It was the month of May. 
The sun had absorbed all the vapours* What a pure and 
limpid atmosphere I The most minute objects over a 
broad space might be discerned. The walls of Virgamen, 
glistening in their whiteness, — its red, pointed roofs, its 
belfries shining in the sunlight— appeared a few miles off. 
And this w'as the town that was foredoomed to all the 
horrors of fire and pillage ! 

The burgomaster and the counsellor sat down beside 
each other on a small stone bench, like two worthy people 
whose souls were in close sympathy. As they recovered 
breath, they looked around ; then, after a brief silence,— 


86 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


** How fine this is !” cried the burgomaster. 

Yes, it is admirablej ” replied the counsellor. Does 
it not seem to you, my good Van Tricasse, that humanity 
is destined to dwell rather at such heights, than to crawl 
about ©n the surface of our globe ? ” 

‘‘ I agree with you, honest Niklausse,” returned the bur- 
gomaster, “ I agree with you. You seize sentiment better 
when you get clear of nature. You breathe it in every 
sense ! It is at such heights that philosophers should be 
formed, and that sages should live, above the miseries of 
this world !” 

“ Shall we go around the platform } ” asked the coun- 
sellor. 

‘'Let us go around the platform,” replied the burgo- 
master. 

And the two friends, arm in arm, and putting, as for- 
merly, long pauses between their questions and answers, 
examined every point of the horizon. 

“ It is at least seventeen years since I have ascended the 
belfry tower,” said Van Tricasse. 

“ I do not think I ever came up before,” replied Nik- 
lausse ; “ and I regret it, for the view from this height is 
sublime ! Do you see, my friend, the pretty stream of the 
Vaar, as it winds among the trees ? ” 

“ And, beyond, the heights of Saint Hermandad ! How 
gracefully they shut in the horizon ! Observe that border 



THE TWO FRIENDS, ARM IN ARM. 



Page 86, 










DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


8 ; 


of green trees, which Nature has so picturesquely arranged! 
Ah, Nature, Nature, Niklausse! Could the hand of man 
ever hope to rival her ?” 

It is enchanting, my excellent friend,” replied the coun- 
sellor. “ See the flocks and herds lying in the verdant 
pastures, — the oxen, the cows, the sheep !” 

“ And the labourers going to the fields ! You would say 
they were Arcadian shepherds; they only want a bag- 
pipe !” 

“ And over all this fertile country the beautiful blue sky, 
which no vapour dims I Ah, Niklausse, one might become 
a poet here I I do not understand why Saint Simeon 
Stylites was not one of the greatest poets of the 
world.” 

“It was because, perhaps, his column was not high 
enough,” replied the counsellor, with a gentle smile. 

At this moment the chimes of Quiquendone rang out. 
The clear bells played one of their most melodious airs. 
The two friends listened in ecstasy. 

Then in his calm voice. Van Tricasse said, — 

“ But what, friend Niklausse, did we come to the top of 
this tower to do .^” 

“In fact,” replied the counsellor, “we have permitted 
ourselves to be carried away by our reveries — ” 

“ What did we come here to do ? ” repeated the burgo«i 
master. 


88 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


came,” said Niklausse, breathe this pure air, 
which human weaknesses have not corrupted.” 

‘^Well, shall we descend, friend Niklausse?” 

** Let us descend, friend Van Tricasse.” 

They gave a parting glance at the splendid panorama 
which was spread before their eyes ; then the burgomaster 
passed down first, and began to descend with a slow and 
measured pace. The counsellor followed a few steps 
behind. They reached the landing-stage at which they 
had stopped on ascending. Already their cheeks began 
to redden. They tarried a moment, then resumed their 
descent. 

In a few moments Van Tricasse begged Niklausse to go 
more slowly, as he felt him on his heels, and it worried 
him.” It even did more than worry him ; for twenty steps 
lower down he ordered the counsellor to stop, that he 
might get on some distance ahead. 

The counsellor replied that he did not wish to remain 
with his leg in the air to await the good pleasure of the j 
burgomaster, and kept on. | 

Van Tricasse retorted w'ith a rude expression. ! 

The counsellor responded by an insulting allusion to the j 
burgomaster’s age, destined as he was, by his family tradi- , 
tions, to marry a second time. 

The burgomaster went down twenty steps more, and . 
warned Niklausse that this should not pass thus. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


89 


Niklausse replied that, at all events, he would pass down 
first ; and, the space being very narrow, the two dignitaries 
came into collision, and found themselves in utter darkness-. 
The words blockhead ” and booby ” were the mildest 
which they now applied to each other. 

*‘We shall see, stupid beast!” cried the burgomaster, — 
** we shall see what figure you will make in this war, and 
in what rank you will march !” 

In the rank that precedes yours, you silly old fool !” 
replied Niklausse. 

Then there were other cries, and it seemed as if bodies 
were rolling over each other. What was going on ^ Why 
were these dispositions so quickly changed } Why were 
the gentle sheep of the tower’s summit metamorphosed 
into tigers two hundred feet below it ? 

However this might be, the guardian of the tower, hear- 
ing the noise, opened the door, just at the moment when 
the two adversaries, bruised, and with protruding eyes, 
were in the act of tearing each other’s hair, — fortunately 
they wore wigs. 

**You shall give me satisfaction for this!” cried the 
burgomaster, shaking his fist under his adversary’s nose. 

Whenever you please!” growled the Counsellor Nik- 
lausse, attempting to respond with a vigorous kick. 

The guardian, who was himself in a passion, — I cannot 
say why, — thought the scene a very natural one. I know 


90 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


not what excitement urged him to take part in it, but he 
controlled himself, and vrent off to announce throughout 
the neighbourhood that a hostile meeting was about to 
take place between the Burgomaster Van Tricasse and the 
Counsellor Niklausse. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


01 


CHAPTER XIV. 

IN WHICH MATTERS GO SO FAR THAT THE INHABITANTS 
OF QUIQUENDONE, THE READER, AND EVEN THE 
AUTHOR, DEMAND AN IMMEDIATE DENOUEMENT. 

The last incident proves to what a pitch of excitement the 
Quiquendonians had been wrought. The two oldest 
friends in the town, and the most gentle — before the 
advent of the epidemic, to reach this degree of violence ! 
And that, too, only a few minutes after their old mutual 
sympathy, their amiable instincts, their contemplative 
habit, had been restored at the summit of the tower ! 

On learning what was going on. Doctor Ox could not 
contain his joy. He resisted the arguments which Ygene, 
who saw what a serious turn affairs were taking, addressed 
to him. Besides, both of them were infected by the 
general fury. They were not less excited than the rest of 
the population, and they ended by quarrelling as violently 
as the burgomaster and the counsellor. 


92 


DOCTOR ox's EXPERIMENT. 


Besides, one question eclipsed all others, and the intended 
duels were postponed to the issue of the Virgamenian 
difficulty. No man had the right to shed his blood 
uselessly, when it belonged, to the last drop, to his country 
in danger. The affair was, in short, a grave one, and there 
was no withdrawing from it. 

The Burgomaster Van Tricasse, despite the warlike 
ardour with which he was filled, had not thought it best to 
throw himself upon the enemy without warning him. He 
had, therefore, through the medium of the rural policeman, 
Hottering, sent to demand reparation of the Virgamenians 
for the offence committed, in 119S, on the Quiquendonian 
territory. 

The authorities of Virgamen could not at first imagine of 
what the envoy spoke, and the latter, despite his official 
character, was conducted back to the frontier very 
cavalierly. 

Van Tricasse then sent one of the aides-de-camp < 5 f the 
confectioner-general, citizen Hildevert Shuman, a manu- 
facturer of barley-sugar, a very firm and energetic man, 
who carried to the authorities of Virgamen the original 
minute of the indictment drawn up in 1195 by order of the 
Burgomaster Natalis Van Tricasse. 

The authorities of Virgamen burst out laughing, and 
served the aide-de-camp in the same manner as the rural 
policeman. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


93 


The burgomaster then assembled the dignitaries of the 
town. 

A letter, remarkably and vigorously drawn up, was 
written as an ultimatum ; the cause of quarrel was plainly 
stated, and a delay of twenty-four hours was accorded 
to the guilty city in which to repair the outrage done to 
Quiquendone. 

The letter was sent off, and returned a few hours after- 
wards, torn to bits, which made so many fresh insults. 
The Virgamenians knew of old the forbearance and equa- 
nimity of the Quiquendonians, and made sport of them and 
their demand, of their casus belli and their ultimatum. 

There was only one thing left to do, — to have recourse 
to arms, to invoke the God of battles, and, after the 
Prussian fashion, to hurl themselves upon the Virgamenians 
{ efore the latter could be prepared. 

This decision was made by the council in solemn con- 
clavef in which cries, objurgations, and menacing gestures 
were mingled with unexampled violence. An assembly of 
idiots, a congress of madmen, a club of maniacs, would not 
have been more tumultuous. 

As soon as the declaration of war was known. General 
Jean Orbideck assembled his troops, perhaps two thousand 
three hundred and ninety-three combatants from a popula- 
tion of two thousand three hundred and ninety-three souls. 
The women, the children, the old men, were joined w’th 


94 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


the able-bodied males. The guns of the town had been 
put under requisition. Five had been found, two of which 
were without cocks, and these had been distributed to the 
advance-guard. The artillery was composed of the old 
culverin of the chateau, taken in 1339 at the attack on 
Quesnoy, one of the first occasions of the use of cannon in 
history, and which had not been fired off for five centuries. 
Happily for those who were appointed to take it in charge 
there were no projectiles with which to load it ; but such as 
it was, this engine might well impose on the enemy. As 
for side-arms, they had been taken from the museum of 
antiquities, — flint hatchets, helmets, Frankish battle-axes, 
javelins, halberds, rapiers, and so on ; and also in those 
domestic arsenals commonly known as “cupboards” and 
“ kitchens.” But courage, the right, hatred of the foreigner, 
the yearning for vengeance, were to take the place of more 
perfect engines, and to replace— at least it was hoped so — 
the modern mitrailleuses and breech-loaders. 

The troops were passed in review. Not a citizen failed 
at the roll-call. General Orbideck, whose seat on horse- 
back was far from firm, and whose steed was a vicious 
beast, was thrown three times in front of the army ; 
but he got up again without injury, and this was regarded 
as a favourable omen. The burgomaster, the counsellor, 
the civil commissary, the chief justice, the school-teacher, 
the banker, the rector, — in short, all the notabilities of the 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


95 


town, — marched at the head. There were no tears shed, 
eitner by mothers, sisters, or daughters. They urged on 
their husbands, fathers, brothers, to the combat, and even 
followed them and formed the rear-guard, under the orders 
of the courageous Madame Van Tricasse. 

The crier, Jean Mistrol, blew his trumpet; the army- 
moved off, and directed itself, with ferocious cries, towards 
the Oudenarde gate. 

* * * * * 

At the moment when the head of the column was about 
to pass the walls of the town, a man threw himself before 
it. 

'‘Stop! stop! Fools that you are!” he cried. “Sus- 
pend your blows ! Let me shut the valve ! You are not 
changed in nature! You are good citizens, quiet and 
peaceable! If you are so excited, it is my master. 
Doctor Ox’s, fault! It is an experiment! Under the 
pretext of lighting your streets with oxyhydric gas, he has 
saturated — ” 

The assistant was beside himself ; but he could not 
finish. At the instant that the doctor’s secret was about 
to escape his lips. Doctor Ox himself pounced upon the 
unhappy Ygene in an indescribable rage, and shut his 
mouth by blows with his fist. 

It was a battle. The burgomaster, the counsellor, the 
dignitaries, who had stopped short on Ygene’s sudden 


96 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


appearance, carried away in turn by their exasperation, 
rushed upon the two strangers, without waiting to hear 
either the one or the other. 

Doctor Ox and his assistant, beaten and lashed, were 
about to be dragged, by order of Van Tricasse, to the 
round-house, when, — 





THE WHOLE ARMY OF QUIQUENDONE FELL TO THE EARTH. 


Page 97. 





DOCTOR OX'S EXPERIMENT. 


97 


CHAPTER XV. 

IN WHICH THE DENOUEMENT TAKES PLACE. 

When a formidable explosion resounded. All the atmos- 
phere which enveloped Quiquendone seemed on fire. A 
flame of an intensity and vividness quite unwonted shot up 
into the heavens like a meteor. Had it been night, this 
flame would have been visible for ten leagues around. 

The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth, like 
an army of monks. Happily there were no victims ; a few 
scratches and slight hurts were the only result. The con- 
fectioner, who, as chance would have it, had not fallen 
from his horse this time, had his plume singed, and escaped 
without any further injury. 

What had happened ? 

Something very simple, as was soon learned ; the gas- 
works had just blown up. During the absence of the 
doctor and his assistant, some careless mistake had no 
doubt been made. It is not known how or why a commu- 

H 


98 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


nication had been established between the reservoir which 
contained the oxygen and that which enclosed the hydro- 
gen. An explosive mixture had resulted from the union 
of these two gases, to which fire had accidentally been 
applied. 

This changed everything ; but when the army got upon 
its feet again, Doctor Ox and his assistant Ygene had 
disappeared. 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


99 


CHAPTER XVI. 

IN WHICH THE INTELLIGENT READER SEES THAT 
HE HAS GUESSED CORRECTLY, DESPITE ALL THE 
author’s PRECAUTIONS. 

After the explosion, Quiquendone immediately became 
the peaceable, phlegmatic, and Flemish town it formerly 
was. 

After the explosion, which indeed did not cause a very 
lively sensation, each one, without knowing why, mechani- 
cally took his way home, the burgomaster leaning on the 
counsellor’s arm, the advocate Schut going arm in arm 
with Gustos the doctor, Frantz Niklausse walking with 
equal familiarity with Simon Collaert, each going tran- 
quilly, noiselessly, without even being conscious of what 
had happened, and having already forgotten Virgamen and 
their revenge. The general returned to his confections, 
and his aide-de-camp to the barley-sugar. 

Thus everything had become calm again; the old 


H 2 


100 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


existence had been resumed by men and beasts, beasts and 
plants ; even by the tower of Oudenarde gate, which the 
explosion — these explosions are sometimes astonishing — 
had set upright again ! 

And from that time" never a word was spoken more 
loudly than another, never a discussion took place in the 
town of Quiquendone. There were no more politics, no 
more clubs, no more trials, no more policemen ! The post 
of the Commissary Passauf became once more a sinecure, 
and* if his salary was not reduced, it was because the 
burgomaster and the counsellor could not make up their 
minds to decide upon it. 

PTom time to time, indeed, Passauf flitted, without any 
one suspecting it, through the dreams of the inconsolable 
Tatanemance. 

As for Frantz’s rival, he generously abandoned the 
charming Suzel to her lover, who hastened to wed her 
five or six years after these events. 

And as for Madame Van Tricasse, she died ten years 
later, at the proper time, and the burgomaster married 
Mademoiselle Pelagie Van Tricasse, his cousin, under 
excellent conditions — for the happy mortal who should 
succeed him. 


DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT. 


lOX 


CHAPTER XVII. 

IN WHICH DOCTOR OX'S THEORY IS EXPLAINED. 

What, then, had this mysterious Doctor Ox done ? Tried 
a fantastic experiment, — nothing more. 

After having laid down his gas-pipes, he had saturated, 
first the public buildings, then the private dwellings, finally 
the streets of Quiquendone, with pure oxygen, without 
letting in the least atom of hydrogen. 

This gas, tasteless and odorless, spread in generous quan- 
tity through the atmosphere, causes, when it is breathed, 
serious agitation to the human organism. One who lives 
in an air saturated with oxygen grows excited, frantic, 
burns ! 

You scarcely return to the ordinary atmosphere before 
you return to your usual state. For instance, the counsel- 
I lor and the burgomaster at the top of the belfry were 
I themselves again, as the oxygen is kept, by its weight, in 
i the lower strata of the air. 


102 


DOCTOR ox’s EXPERIMENT. 


But one who lives under such conditions, breathing this 
gas which transforms the body physiologically as well as 
the soul, dies speedily, like a madman. 

It was fortunate, then, for the Quiquendonians, that a 
providential explosion put an end to this dangerous ex- 
periment, and abolished Doctor Ox’s gas-works. 

To conclude : Are virtue, courage, talent, wit, imagina- 
tion, — are all these qualities or faculties only a question of 
oxygen ? 

Such is Doctor Ox’s theory ; but we are not bound to 
accept it, and for ourselves we utterly reject it, in spite of 
the curious experiment of which the worthy old town of 
Quiquendone was the theatre. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A WINTER NIGHT. 

The city of Geneva lies at the west end of the lake of the 
same name. The Rhone, which passes through the town 
at the outlet of the lake, divides it into two sections, and 
is itself divided in the centre of the city by an island 
placed in mid-stream. A topographical feature like this 
is often found in the great depdts of commerce and 
industry. No doubt the first inhabitants were influenced 
by the easy means of transport which the swift currents of 
the rivers offered them — those roads which walk along 
of their own accord,” as Pascal puts it. In the case of 
the Rhone, it would be the road that ran along. 

Before new and regular buildings were constructed on 
this island, which was enclosed like a Dutch galley in the 
middle of the river, the curious mass of houses, piled one on 


104 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


the other, presented a delightfully confused coup-d*ml. 
The small area of the island had compelled some of the 
buildings to be perched, as it were, on the piles, which were 
entangled in the rough currents of the river. The huge 
beams, blackened by time, and worn by the water, seemed 
like the claws of an enormous crab, and presented a fan- 
tastic appearance. The little yellow streams, which were 
like cobwebs stretched amid this ancient foundation, 
quivered in the darkness, as if they had been the leaves 
of some old oak forest, while the river engulfed in this 
forest of piles, foamed and roared most mournfully. 

One of the houses of the island was striking for its 
curiously aged appearance. It was the dwelling of the old 
clockmaker. Master Zacharius, whose household consisted 
of his daughter Gerande, Aubert Thun, his apprentice, and 
his old servant Scholastique. 

There was no man in Geneva to compare in interest with 
this Zacharius. His age was past finding out. Not the 
oldest inhabitant of the town could tell for how long his 
thin, pointed head had shaken above his shoulders, nor the 
day when, fot the first time, he had walked through the 
streets, with his long white locks floating in the wind. The 
man did not live ; he vibrated like the pendulum of his 
clocks. His spare and cadaverous figure was always 
clothed in dark colours. Like the pictures of Leonardo di 
Vinci, he was sketched in black. 


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HE WOULD RAISE THE TRAP- DOOR CONSTRUCTED IN THE FLOOR OF 

HIS WORKSHOP. 


Page xos 




MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


105 


Gerande had the pleasantest room in the whole house, 
whence, through a narrow window, she had the inspiriting 
view of the snowy peaks of Jura; but the bedroom and 
v/orkshop of the old man were a kind of cavern close on to 
the water, the floor of which rested on the piles. 

From tim.e immemorial Master Zacharius had never come 
out except at meal times, and when he went to regulate 
the different clocks of the town. He passed the rest of his 
time at his bench, which was covered with numerous clock- 
work instruments, most of which he had invented himself. 
For he was a clever man ; his works were valued in all 
France and Germany. The best workers in Geneva readily 
recognized his superiority, and showed that he was an 
honour to the town, by saying, To him belongs the 
glory of having invented the escapement.” In fact, the 
birth of true clock-work dates from the invention which 
the talents of Zacharius had discovered not many years 
before. 

After he had worked hard for a long time, Zacharius 
would slowly put his tools away, cover up the delicate 
pieces that he had been adjusting with glasses, and stop the 
active wheel of his lathe ; then he would raise a trap-door 
constructed in the floor of his workshop, and, stooping 
down, used to inhale for hours together the thick vapours 
of the Rhone, as it dashed along under his eyes. 

One winter’s night the old servant Scholastique served 


io6 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


the supper, which, according to old custom, she and 
the young mechanic shared with their master. Master 
Zacharius did not eat, though the food carefully pre- 
pared for him was offered him in a handsome blue and 
white dish. He scarcely answered the sweet words of 
Gerande, who evidently noticed her father’s silence, and 
even the clatter of Scholastique herself no more struck 
his ear than the roar of the river, to which he paid no 
attention. 

After the silent meal, the old clockmaker left the table 
without embracing his daughter, or saying his usual 
Good-night” to all. He left by the narrow door lead- 
ing to his den, and the staircase groaned under his heavy 
footsteps as he went down. 

Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique sat for some minutes 
without speaking. On this evening the weather was dull ; 
the clouds dragged heavily on the Alps, and threatened 
rain ; the severe climate of Switzerland made one feel sad, 
while the south wind swept round the house, and whistled 
ominously. 

My dear young lady,” said Scholastique, at last, '*do you 
know that our master has been out of sorts for several 
days ? Holy Virgin ! I know he has had no appetite, 
because his words stick in his inside, and it would take a 
very clever devil to drag even one out of him.” 

“ My father has some secret cause of trouble, that I can- 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


107 


not even guess,” replied Gerande, as a sad anxiety spread 
over her face. 

“Mademoiselle, don’t let such sadness fill your heart. 
You know the strange habits of Master Zacharius. Who 
can read his secret thoughts in his face ^ No doubt some 
fatigue has overcome him, but to-morrow he will have for- 
gotten it, and be very sorry to have given his daughter 
pain.” 

It was Aubert who spoke thus, looking into Gerande’s 
lovely eyes. Aubert was the first apprentice whom Master 
Zacharius had ever admitted to the intimacy of his labours, 
for he appreciated his intelligence, discretion, and goodness 
of heart ; and this young man had attached himself to 
Gerande with the earnest devotion natural to a noble 
nature. 

Gerande was eighteen years of age. Her oval face 
recalled that of the artless Madonnas whom veneration 
still displays at the streqf corners of the antique towns of 
Brittany. Her eyes betrayed an infinite simplicity. One 
would love her as the sweetest realization of a poet’s dream. 
Her apparel was of modest colours, and the white linen 
which was folded about her shoulders had the tint and 
perfume peculiar to the linen of the church. She led a 
mystical existence in Geneva, which had not as yet been 
delivered over to the dryness of Calvinism. 

While, night and morning, she read her Latin prayers in 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


108 


her iron-clasped missal, Gerande had also discovered a 
hidden sentiment in Aubert Thun’s heart, and compre* 
hended what a profound devotion the young workman had 
tor her. Indeed, the whole world in his eyes was con- 
densed into this old clockmaker’s house, and he passed all 
his time near the young girl, when he left her father’s 
workshop, after his work was over. 

Old Scholastique saw all this, but said nothing. Her 
loquacity exhausted itself in preference on the evils of the 
times, and the little worries of the household. Nobody 
tried to stop its course. It was with her as with the 
musical snuff-boxes which they made at Geneva ; once 
wound up, you must break them before you will prevent 
their playing all their airs through. 

Finding Gerande absorbed in a melancholy silence, 
Scholastique left her old wooden chair, fixed a taper on the 
end of a candlestick, lit it, and placed it near a small waxen 
Virgin, sheltered in her niche of stone. It was the family 
custom to kneel before this protecting Madonna of the 
domestic hearth, and to beg her kindly watchfulness during 
the coming night ; but on this evening Gerande remained 
silent in her seat. 

''Well, well, dear demoiselle,” said the astonished 
Scholastique, " supper is over, and it is time to go to bed. 
Why do you tire your eyes by sitting up late Ah, Holy 
Virgin ! It’s much better to sleep, and to get a little com- 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


109 


fort from happy dreams ! In these detestable times in 
which we live, who can promise herself a fortunate day ?” 

‘‘Ought we not to send for a doctor for my father?” 
asked Gerande. 

“ A doctor ! ” cried the old domestic. " Has Master 
Zacharius ever listened to their fancies and pompous 
sayings ? He might accept medicines for the watches, but 
not for the body !” 

“ What shall we do ?” murmured Gerande. ** Has he 
gone to work, or to rest ?” 

“Gerande,” answered Aubert softly, “some mental 
trouble annoys your father, that is all.” 

“ Do you know what it is, Aubert ?” 

“Perhaps, Gerande.” 

“Tell us, then,” cried Scholastique eagerly, economically 
extinguishing her taper. 

“ For several days, Gerande,” said the young apprentice, 

I “something* absolutely incomprehensible has been going 
on. All the watches which your father has made and sold 
[ for some years have suddenly stopped. Very many of 
them have been brought back to him. He has carefully 
taken them to pieces ; the springs were in good’ condition, 
and the wheels well set. He has put them together yet 
more carefully ; but, despite his skill, they will not go.” 

“The devil’s in it !” cried Scholastique. 

“Why say you so?” asked Gerande. “It seems very 


] 10 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


natural to me. Nothing lasts for ever in this world. The 
infinite cannot be fashioned by the hands of men.” 

“ It is none the less true,” returned Aubert, that there 
is in this something very mysterious and extraordinary. 
I have myself been helping Master Zacharius to search for 
the cause of this derangement of his watches ; but I have 
not been able to find it, and more than once I have let my 
tools fall from my hands in despair.” ' 

“ But why undertake so vain a task resumed Scholas 
tique. “ Is it natural that a little copper instrument should 
go of itself, and mark the hours ? We ought to have kept 
to the sun-dial !” 

“You will not talk thus, Scholastique,” said Aubert, 
“when you learn that the sun-dial was invented by 
Cain.” 

“ Good heavens ! what are you telling me 

“ Do you think,” asked Gerande simply, “ that we might 
pray to God to give life to my father’s watches 

“ Without doubt,” replied Aubert. 

“ Good ! They will be useless prayers,” muttered the 
old servant, “but Heaven will pardon them for their good 
intent.” 

The taper was relighted. Scholastique, Gerande, and’ 
Aubert knelt down together upon the tiles of the room. 
The young girl prayed for her mother’s soul, for a blessing 
for the night, for travellers and prisoners, for the good and 


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THE YOUNG GIRL PRAYED 


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MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


Ill 


the wicked, and more earnestly than all for the unknown 
misfortunes of her father. 

Then the three devout souls rose with some confidence in 
their hearts, because they had laid their sorrow on the 
bosom of God. 

Aubert repaired to his own room ; Gerande sat pensively 
by the window, whilst the last lights were disappearing 
from the city streets ; and Scholastique, having poured a 
little water on the flickering embers, and shut the two 
enormous bolts on the door, threw herself upon her bed, 
where she was soon dreaming that she was dying of fright. 

Meanwhile the terrors of this winter’s night had increased. 
Sometimes, with the whirlpools of the river, the wind 
engulfed itself among the piles, and the whole house 
shivered and shook ; but the young girl, absorbed in her 
sadness, thought only of her father. After hearing what 
Aubert told her, the malady of Master Zacharius took 
fantastic proportions in her mind ; and it seemed to her as 
if his existence, so dear to her, having become purely 
mechanical, no longer moved on its worn-out pivots with- 
out effort. 

Suddenly the pent-house shutter, shaken by the squall, 
struck against the window of the room. Gerande shuddered 
and started up without understanding the cause of the 
noise which thus disturbed her reverie. When she becam.c 
a little calmer she opened the sash. The clouds had burst,. 


II2 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


and a torrent-like rain pattered on the surrounding roofs. 
The young girl leaned out of the window to draw to the 
shutter shaken by the wind, but she feared to do so. It 
seemed to her that the rain and the river, confounding their 
tumultuous waters, were submerging the frail house, the 
planks of which creaked in every direction. She would 
have flown from her chamber, but she saw below the 
flickering of a light which appeared to come from Master 
Zacharius’s retreat, and in one of those momentary calms 
during which the elements keep a sudden silence, her ear 
caught plaintive sounds. She tried to shut her window, 
but could not. The wind violently repelled her, like a 
thief who was breaking into a dwelling. 

Gerande thought she would go mad with terror. What 
was her father doing She opened the door, and it 
escaped from her hands, and slammed loudly with the 
force of the tempest. Gerande then found herself in 
the dark supper-room, succeeded in gaining, on tiptoe, 
the staircase which led to her father’s shop, and pale 
and fainting, glided down. 

The old watchmaker was upright in the middle of the 
room, which resounded with the roaring of the river. His 
bristling hair gave him a sinister aspect. He was talking 
and gesticulating, without seeing or hearing anything. 
Gerande stood still on the threshold. 

“It is death !” said Master Zacharius, in a hollow voice; 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


II3 

“ it is death ! Why should I live longer, now that I have 
disperse 1 my existence over the earth ? For I, Master 
Zacharius, am really the creator of all the watches that I 
have fashioned ! It is a part of my very soul that I have 
shut up in each of these cases of iron, silver, or gold ! 
Every time that one of these accursed watches stops, I feel 
^ my heart cease beating, for I have regulated them with its 
pulsations !” 

As he spoke in this strange way, the old man cast his 
eyes on his bench. There lay all the pieces of a watch that 
he had carefully taken apart. He took up a sort of hollow 
cylinder, called a barrel, in which the spring is enclosed, 
and removed the steel spiral, but instead of relaxing it- 
self, according to the laws of its elasticity, it remained coiled 
on itself like a sleeping viper. It seemed knotted, like 
impotent old men whose blood has long been congealed. 
Master Zacharius vainly essayed to uncoil it with his thin 
fingers, the outlines of which were exaggerated on the 
wall ; but he tried in vain, and soon, with a terrible cry of 
anguish and rage, he threw it through the trap-door into 
the boiling Rhone. 

Gerande, her feet riveted to the floor, stood breathless 
and motionless. She wished to approach her father, but 
could not. Giddy hallucinations took possession of her. 
Suddenly she heard, in the shade, a voice murmur in her 
ears, — 

I 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


1 14 


Gerande, dear Gerande ! grief still keeps you awake. 
Go in again, I beg of you ; the night is cold.” 

Aubert !” whispered the young girl. You !” 

Ought I not to be troubled by what troubles you 
These soft words sent the blood back into the young 
girl’s heart. She leaned on Aubert’s arm, and said to 
him, — 

“ My father is very ill, Aubert! You alone can cure him, 
for this disorder of the mind would not yield to his daugh- 
ter’s consolings. His mind is attacked by a very natural 
delusion, and in working with him, repairing the watches, 
you will bring him back to reason. Aubert,” she continued, 
‘‘ it is not true, is it, that hrs life is mixed up with that of 
his watches 

Aubert did not reply. 

But is my father’s a trade condemned by God ?” asked 
Gerande, trembling. 

“ I know not,” returned the apprentice, warming the cold 
hands of the girl with his own. “But go back to your 
room, my poor Gerande, and with sleep recover hope ! ” 
Gerande slowly returned to her chamber, and remained 
there till daylight, without sleep closing her eyelids. 
Meanwhile, Master Zacharius, always mute and motionless, 
gazed at the river as it rolled turbulently at his feet. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


H5 


CHAPTER II. 

THE PRIDE OF SCIENCE. 

The severity of the Geneva merchant in business matters 
has become proverbial. He is rigidly honourable, and 
excessively just. What must, then, have been the shame of 
Master Zacharius, when he saw these watches, which he 
had so carefully constructed, returning to him from every 
direction ? 

It was certain that these watches had suddenly stopped, 
and without any apparent reason. The wheels were in a 
good condition and firmly fixed, but the springs had lost 
all elasticity. Vainly did the watchmaker try to replace 
them; the wheels remained motionless. These unaccount- 
able derangements were greatly to the old man’s discredit. 
His noble inventions had many times brought upon him 
suspicions of sorcery, which now seemed confirmed. These 
rumours reached Gerande, and she often trembled for her 

2 2 


ii6 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


father, when she saw m^alicious glances directed towards 
him. 

Yet on the morning after this night of anguish, Master 
Zacharius seemed to resume work with some confidence. 
The morning sun inspired him with some courage. Aubert 
hastened to join him in the shop, and received an affable 
Good-day.” 

“ I am better,” said the old man. “1 don’t know what 
strange pains in the head attacked me yesterday, but the 
sun has quite chased them away, with the clouds of the 
night.” 

In faith, master,” returned Aubert, ‘‘ I don’t like the 
night for either of us !” 

‘^And thou art right, Aubert. If you ever become a 
great man, you will understand that day is as necessary to 
you as food. A great savant should be always ready to 
receive the homage of his fellow-men.” 

“ Master, it seems to me that the pride of science has 
possessed you.” 

“ Pride, Aubert ! Destroy my past, annihilate my 
present, dissipate my future, and then it will be permitted 
to me to live in obscurity ! Poor boy, who comprehends 
not the sublime things to which my art is wholly devoted ! 
Art thou not but a tool in my hands 

“Yet. Master Zacharius,” resumed Aubert, “I have more 
than once merited your praise for the manner in which I 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


I17 


adjusted the most delicate parts of your watches and 
clocks.” 

No doubt, Aubert ; thou art a good workman, such as 
I love ; but when thou workest, thou thinkest thou hast 
in thy hands but copper, silver, gold ; thou dost not per- 
cei\e these metals, which my genius animates, palpitating 
like living flesh ! So that thou wilt not die, with the death 
of thy works !” 

Master Zacharius remained silent after these words ; but 
Aubert essayed to keep up the conversation. 

“ Indeed, master,” said he, “ I love to see you work so 
unceasingly! You will be ready for the festival of our 
corporation, for I see that the work on this crystal watch 
is going forward famously.” 

“No doubt, Aubert,” cried the old watchmaker, “and it 
will be no slight honour for me to have been able to cut 
and shape the crystal to the durability of a diamond I Ah, 
Louis Berghem did well to perfect the art of diamond- 
cutting, which has enabled me to polish and pierce the 
hardest stones I” 

Master Zacharius was holding several small watch pieces 
of cut crystal, and of exquisite workmanship. The wheels, 
pivots, and case of the watch were of the same material, 
'and he had employed remarkable skill in this very difficult 
task. 

“Would it not be fine,” said he, his face flushing, “to see 


ii8 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


this watch palpitating beneath its transparent envelope, 
and to be able to count the beatings of its heart ?” 

“ I will wager, sir,” replied the young apprentice, that 
it will not vary a second in a year.” 

‘^And you would wager on a certainty! Have I not 
imparted to it all that is purest of myself And does my 
heart vary ? My heart, I say 

Aubert did not dare to lift his eyes to his master’s face. 

‘'Tell me frankly,” said the old man sadly. “Have 
you never taken me for a madman ? Do you not think 
me sometimes subject to dangerous folly Yes; is it not 
so In my daughter’s eyes and yours, I have often read 
my condemnation. Oh 1 ” he cried, as if in pain, “ to be 
misunderstood by those whom one most loves in the world I 
But I will prove victoriously to thee, Aubert, that I am 
right 1 Do not shake thy head, for thou wilt be astounded. 
The day on which thou understandest how to listen to and 
comprehend me, thou wilt see that I have discovered the 
secrets of existence, the secrets of the mysterious union of 
the soul with the body I” 

As he spoke thus, Master Zacharius appeared superb in 
his vanity. His eyes glittered with a supernatural fire, and 
his pride illumined every feature. And truly, if ever vanity 
was excusable, it was that of Master Zacharius ! 

The watchmaking art, indeed, down to his time, had 
remained almost in its infancy. From the day when Plato, 



“THOU WILT 


SEE THAT I HAVE DISCOVERED THE SECRETS OF 

existence/* 

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MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


II9 

four centuries before the Christian era, invented the night 
watch, a sort of clepsydra which indicated the hours of the 
night by the sound and playing of a flute, the science had 
continued nearly stationary. The masters paid more atten- 
tion to the arts than to mechanics, and it was the period of 
beautiful watches of iron, copper, wood, silver, which were 
richly engraved, like one of Cellini’s ewers. They made a 
masterpiece of chasing, which measured time imperfectly, 
but was still a masterpiece. When the artist’s imagination 
was not directed to the perfection of modelling, it set to 
work to create clocks with moving figures and melodious 
sounds, \vhose appearance took all attention. Besides, 
who troubled himself, in those days, with regulating the 
advance of time ? The delays of the law were not as yet 
invented ; the physical and astronomical sciences had not 
as yet established their calculations on scrupulously exact 
measurements; there were neither establishments which 
were shut at a given hour, nor trains which departed at a 
precise moment. In the evening the curfew bell sounded ; 
and at night the hours were cried amid the universal 
silence. Certainly people did not live so long, if existence 
is measured by the amount of business done ; but they 
lived better. The mind was enriched with the noble sen- 
timents born of the contemplation of chefs-d’oeuvre. They 
built a church in two centuries, a painter painted but few 
pictures in the course of his life, a poet only composed one 


120 


ASTER ZACHARIUS. 


great work ; but these were so many masterpieces for after- 
ages to appreciate. 

When the exact sciences began at last to make some 
progress, watch and clock making followed in their path, 
though it was always arrested by an insurmountable diffi- 
culty, — the regular and continuous measurement of time. 

It was in the midst of this stagnation that Master Zacha- 
rius invented the escapement, which enabled him to obtain 
a mathematical regularity by submitting the movement of 
the pendulum to a sustained force. This invention had 
turned the old man’s head. Pride, swelling in his heart, 
like mercury in the thermometer, had attained Jthe height 
of transcendent folly. By analogy he had allowed himself 
to be drawn to materialistic conclusions, and as he con- 
structed his watches, he fancied that he had discovered 
the secrets of the union of the soul with the body. 

Thus, on this day, perceiving that Aubert listened to 
him attentively, he said to him in a tone of simple con- 
viction, — 

“ Dost thou know what life is, my child ? Hast thou 
comprehended the action of those springs which produce 
existence? Hast thou examined thyself ? No. And yet, 
with the eyes of science, thou mightest have seen the inti- 
mate relation which exists between God’s work and my 
own ; for it is from his creature that I have copied the com- 
binations of the wheels of my clocks.” 



FATHER, 


WHAT IS 


THE MATTER?" 


Page 122. 








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MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


I2I 


‘‘Master,” replied Aubert eagerly, “can you compare a 
copper or steel machine with that breath of God which is 
called the soul, which animates our bodies as the breeze 
stirs the flowers ? What mechanism could be so adjusted 
as to inspire us with thought ?” 

“ That is not the question,” responded Master Zacharius 
gently, but with all the obstinacy of a blind man walking 
towards an abyss. “ In order to understand me, thou must 
recall the purpose of the escapement which I have invented. 
When I saw the irregular working of clocks, I understood 
that the movements shut up in them did not suffice, and 
that it wa.s necessary to submit them to the regularity of 
some independent force. I then thought that the balance- 
wheel might accomplish this, and I succeeacd in regulating 
the movement ! Now, was it not a sublime idea that came 
to me, to return to it its lost force by the action of the clock 
itself, which it was charged with regulating.?” 

Aubert made a sign of assent. 

“Now, Aubert,” continued the old man, growing ani- 
mated, “cast thine eyes upon thyself! Dost thou not 
understand that there are two distinct forces in us, that of 
the soul and that of the body — that is, a movement and a 
regulator .? The soul is the principle of life ; that is, then, 
the movement. Whether it is produced by a weight, by a 
spring, or by an immaterial influence, it is none the less in 
the heart. But without the body this movement would be 


122 MASTER ZACHARIUS. 

unequal, irregular, impossible ! Thus the body regulates 
the soul, and, like the balance-wheel, it is submitted to 
regular oscillations. And this is so true, that one falls ill 
when one’s drink, food, sleep— in a word, the functions of 
the body — are not properly regulated ; just as in my 
watches the soul renders to the body the force lost by its 
oscillations. Well, what produces this intimate union be- 
tween soul and body, if not a marvellous escapement, by 
which the wheels of the one work into the wheels of the 
other } This is what I have discovered and applied ; and 
there are no longer any secrets for me in this life, which is, 
after all, only an ingenious mechanism !” 

Master Zacharius looked sublime in this hallucination, 
which carried him to the ultimate mysteries of the Infinite. 
But his daughter Gerande, standing on the threshold of the 
door, had heard all. She rushed into her father’s arms, and 
he pressed her convulsively to his breast. 

'‘What is the matter with thee, my daughter he asked. 

“ If I had only a spring here,” said she, putting her hand 
on her heart, “ I would not love you as I do, father.” 

Master Zacharius looked intently at Gerande, and did 
not reply. Suddenly he uttered a cry, carried his hand 
eagerly to his heart, and fell fainting on his old leathern 
chair. 

“ Father, what is the matter.?” 

“ Help ! ” cried Aubert. “ Scholastique I” 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


123 


But Scholastique did not come at once. Some one was 
knocking at the front door ; she had gone to open it, and 
when she returned to the shop, before she could open her 
mouth, the old watchmaker, having recovered his senses, 
spoke 

‘‘ I divine, my old Scholastique, that you bring me still 
another of those accursed watches which have stopped.” 

“ Lord, it is true enough ! ” replied Scholastique, handing 
a watch to Aubert. 

‘^My heart could not be mistaken!” said the old man, 
with a sigh. 

Meanwhile Aubert carefully wound up the watch, but it 
would not go. 


124 


MASTER ZACITARIUS. 


CHAPTER III. 

A STRANGE VISIT. 

Poor Gerande would have lost her life with that of her 
father, had it not been for the thought of Aubert, who still 
attached her to the world. 

The old watchmaker was, little by little, passing away. 
His faculties evidently grew more feeble, as he concentrated 
them on a single thought. By a sad association of ideas, 
he referred everything to his monomania, and a human 
existence seemed to have departed from him, to give place 
to the extra-natural existence of the intermediate powers. 
Moreover, certain malicious rivals revived the sinister 
rumours which had spread concerning his labours. 

The news of the strange derangements which his watches 
betrayed had a prodigious effect upon the master clock- 
makers of Geneva. What signified this sudden paralysis of 
their wheels, and why these strange relations which they 
seemed to have with the old man’s life ? These were the 


MASTER ZACHARIUS, 


125 


kind of mysteries which people never contemplate without 
a secret terror. In the various classes of the town, from the 
apprentice to the great lord who used the watches of the 
old horologist, there was no one who could not himself 
judge of the singularity of the fact. The citizens wished, 
but in vain, to get to see Master Zacharius. He fell very 
ill ; and this enabled his daughter to withdraw him from 
those incessant visits which had degenerated into reproaches 
and recriminations. 

Medicines and physicians were powerless in presence of 
this organic wasting away, the cause of which could not be 
discovered. It sometimes seemed as if the old man’s heart 
had ceased to beat ; then the pulsations were resumed with 
an alarming irregularity. 

A custom existed in those days of publicly exhibiting 
the works of the masters. The heads of the various corpo- 
rations sought to distinguish themselves by the novelty or 
the perfection of their productions ; and it was among these 
that the condition of Master Zacharius excited the i;nost 
lively, because most interested, commiseration. His 
rivals pitied him the more willingly because they feared 
him the less. They never forgot the old man’s success, 
when he exhibited his magnificent clocks with moving 
figures, his repeaters, which provoked general admiration, 
and commanded such high prices in the cities of France, 

, Switzerland, and Germany. 


.126 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


Meanwhile, thanks to the constant and tender care 
of Gerande and Aubert, his strength seemed to return a 
little ; and in the tranquillity in which his convalescence 
left him, he succeeded in detaching himself from the 
thoughts which had absorbed him. As soon as he could 
walk, his daughter lured him away from the house, which 
was still besieged with dissatisfied customers. Aubert 
remained in the shop, vainly adjusting and readjusting the 
rebel watches ; and the poor boy, completely mystified, 
sometimes covered his face with his hands, fearful that he, 
like his master, might go mad. 

Gerande led her father towards the more pleasant pro- 
menades of the town. With his arm resting on hers, she 
conducted him sometimes through the quarter of Saint 
Antoine, the view from which extends towards the Cologny 
hill, and over the lake ; on fine mornings they caught sight 
of the gigantic peaks of Mount Buet against the horizon. 
Gerande pointed out these spots to her father, who had 
well-nigh forgotten even their names. His memory wan- 
dered ; and he took a childish interest in learning anew 
what had passed from his mind. Master Zacharius leaned 
upon his daughter ; and the two heads, one white as snow 
and the other covered with rich golden tresses, met in the 
i?ame ray of sunlight. 

So it came about that the old watchmaker at last per- 
ceived that he was not alone in the world. As he looked 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


127 


Upon his young and lovely daughter, and on himself old 
and broken, he reflected that after his death she would be 
left alone without support. Many of the young mechanics 
of Geneva had already sought to win Gerande’s love ; but 
none of them had succeeded in gaining access to the im- 
penetrable retreat of the watchmaker’s household. It was 
natural, then, that during this lucid interval, the old man’s 
choice should fall on Aubert Thun. Once struck with this 
thought, he remarked to himself that this young couple 
had been brought up with the same ideas and the same 
beliefs ; and the oscillations of their hearts seemed to him, 
as he said one day to Scholastique, “ isochronous.” 

The old servant, literally delighted with the word, though 
she did not understand it, swore by her holy patron saint 
that the whole town should hear it within a quarter of an 
hour. Master Zacharius found it diflicult to calm her ; but 
made her promise to keep on this subject a silence which 
she never was known to observe. 

So, though Gerande and Aubert were ignorant of it, all 
Geneva was soon talking of their speedy union. But it 
happened also that, while the worthy folk were gossiping, 
a strange chuckle was often heard, and a voice saying, 
** Gerande will not wed Aubert.” 

If the talkers turned round, they found themselves facing 
a little old man who was quite a stranger to them. 

How old was this singular being ? No one could have 


128 


MASTER -ZACHARIUS. 


told. People conjectured that he must have existed for 
several centuries, and that was all. His big flat head rested 
upon shoulders the width of which was equal to the height 
of his body ; this was not above three feet. This personage 
would have made a good figure to support a pendulum, for 
the dial would have naturally been placed on his face, and 
the balance-wheel would have oscillated at its ease in his 
chest. His nose might readily have been taken for the 
style of a sun-dial, for it was narrow and sharp ; his teeth, 
far apart, resembled the cogs of a wheel, and ground them- 
selves between his lips ; his voice had the metallic sound 
of a bell, and you could hear his heart beat like the tick of 
a clock. This little man, whose arms moved like the hands 
on a dial, walked with jerks, without ever turning round. 
If any one followed him, it was found that he walked a 
league an hour, and that his course was nearly circular. 

This strange being had not long been seen wandering, 
or rather circulating, around the town ; but it had already 
been observed that, every day, at the moment when the 
sun passed the meridian, he stopped before the Cathedral 
of Saint Pierre, and resumed his course after the twelve 
strokes of noon had sounded. Excepting at this precise 
moment, he seemed to become a part of all the conversa- 
tions in which the old watchmaker was talked of; and 
people asked each other, in terror, what relation could 
exist between him and Master Zacharius. It was re> 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


129 


marked, too, that he never lost sight of the old man and 
his daughter while they were taking their promenades. 

One day Gerande perceived this monster looking at her 
with a hideous smile. She clung to her father with a 
frightened motion. 

What is the matter, my Gerande } ” asked Master 
Zacharius. 

1 do not know,” replied the young girl, 

“ But thou art changed, my child. Art thou going to 
fall ill in thy turn ? Ah, well,” he added, with a sad smile, 
“then I must take care of thee, and I will do it tenderly.” 

“ O father, it will be nothing. I am cold, and I imagine 
that it is — ” 

“What, Gerande 

“The presence of that man, who always follows us,” she 
replied in a low tone. 

Master Zacharius turned towards the little old man. 

“ Faith, he goes well,” said he, with a satisfied air, “for it 
is just four o’clock. Fear nothing, my child ; it is not a 
man, it is a clock !” 

Gerande looked at her father in terror. How could 
Master Zacharius read the hour on this strange creature’s 
visage } 

“ By-the-bye,” continued the old watchmaker, paying no 
further attention to the matter, “ I have not seen Aubert 
for several days.” 

K 


130 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


He has not left us, however, father,” said Gerande, 
whose thoughts turned into a gentler channel. 

‘‘ What is he doing then ?” 

He is working.” 

‘^Ah!” cried the old man. He is at work repairing 
my watches, is he not ? But he will never succeed ; for it 
is not repair they need, but a resurrection 1 ” 

Gerande remained silent. 

‘H must know,” added the old man, “if they have 
brought back any more of those accursed watches upon 
which the Devil has sent this epidemic ! 

After these words Master Zacharius fell into complete 
silence, till he knocked at the door of his house, and for the 
first time since his convalescence descended to his shop, 
while Gerande sadly repaired to her chamber. 

Just as Master Zacharius crossed the threshold of his 
shop, one of the many clocks suspended on the wall struck 
five o’clock. Usually the bells of these clocks — admirably 
regulated as they were — struck simultaneously, and this 
rejoiced the old man’s heart; but on this day the bells 
struck one after another, so that for a quarter of an hour 
the ear was deafened by the successive noises. Master 
Zacharius suffered acutely ; he could not remain still, but 
went from one clock to the other, and beat the time to 
them, like a conductor who no longer has control over his 
musicians. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


I31 


When the last had ceased striking, the door of the shop 
opened, and Master Zacharius shujddered from head to foot 
to see before him the little old man, who looked fixedly at 
him and said, — 

“ Master, may I not speak with you a few moments ?” 

• “ Who are you ? ” asked the watchmaker abruptly. 

“ A colleague. It is my business to regulate the sun.” 

“ Ah, you regulate the sun .? ” replied Master Zacharius 
eagerly, without wincing. can scarcely compliment you 
upon it. Your sun goes badly, and in order to make our- 
selves agree with it, we have to keep putting our clocks 
forward so much or back so much.” 

And by the cloven foot,” cried this weird per- 
sonage, '^you are right, my master! My sun does not 
always mark noon at the same moment as your clocks ; 
but some day it will be known that this is because of the 
inequality of the earth’s transfer, and a mean noon will be 
invented which will regulate this irregularity ! ” 

** Shall I live till then ?” asked the old man, with glisten- 
ing eyes. 

« Without doubt,” replied the little old man, laughing. 
“ Can you believe that you will ever die ? ” 

“ Alas ! I am very ill now.” 

“ Ah, let us talk of that. By Beelzebub ! that will lead 
to just what I wish to speak to you about.” 

Saying this, the strange being leaped upon the old 
K 2 


132 


MASTER ZACIIARIUS. 


leather chair, and carried his legs one under the other, after 
the fashion of the bones which the painters of funeral 
hangings cross beneath death’s heads. Then he resumed, 
in an ironical tone, — 

“ Let us see. Master Zacharius, what is going on in this 
good town of Geneva ^ They say that your health is fail- 
ing, that your watches have need of a doctor !” 

Ah, do you believe that there is an intimate relation 
between their existence and mine.^” cried Master Zacharius. 

Why, I imagine that these watches have faults, even 
vices. If these wantons do not preserve a regular conduct, 
it is right that they should bear the consequences of their 
irregularity. It seems to me that they have need of reform- 
ing a little ! ” 

What do you call faults asked Master Zacharius, 
reddening at the sarcastic tone in v/hich these words were 
uttered. Have they not a right to be proud of their 
origin ^ ” 

“Not too proud, not too proud,” replied the little old 
man. “They bear a celebrated name, and an illustrious 
signature is graven on their cases, it is true, and theirs is 
the exclusive privilege of being introduced among the 
noblest families ; but for some time they have got out of 
order, and you can do nothing in the matter. Master 
Zacharius ; and the stupidest apprentice in Geneva could 
prove it to you ! ” 



THKN HE RESUMED, IN AN IRONICAL TONE 


Page 132 . 






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MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


1 33 

me, to me, — Master Zacharius ! ” cried the old man, 
with a flush of outraged pride. 

To you. Master Zacharius, — ^you, who cannot restore 
life to your watches ! " 

But it is because I have a fever, and so have they 
also!” replied the old man, as a cold sweat broke out upon 
him. 

“Very well, they will* die with you, since you cannot 
impart a little elasticity to their springs.” 

“ Die ! No, for you yourself have said it I I cannot 
die, — I, the first watchmaker in the world ; I, who, by 
means of these pieces and diverse wheels, have been able 
to regulate the movement with absolute precision ! Have 
I not subjected time to exact laws, and can I not dispose 
of it like a despot Before a sublime genius had arranged 
these wandering hours regularly, in what vast uncertainty 
was human destiny plunged ? At what certain moment 
could the acts of life be connected with each other ? But 
you, man or devil, whatever you may be, have never con- 
sidered the magnificence of my art, which calls every 
science to its aid I No, no ! I, Master Zacharius, cannot 
die, for, as I have regulated time, time would end with me ! 
It would return to the infinite, whence my genius has 
rescued it, and it would lose itself irreparably in the abyss 
of nothingness ! No, I can no more die than the Creator 
of this universe, that submitted to His laws ! I have 


134 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


become His equal, and I have partaken of His power ! If 
God has created eternity, Master Zacharius has created 
time ! ” 

The old watchmaker now resembled the fallen angel, 
defiant in the presence of the Creator. The little old man 
gazed at him, and even seemed to breathe into him this 
impious transport. 

“Well said, master,” he replied. “ Beelzebub had less 
right than you to compare himself with God ! Your glory 
must not perish ! So your servant here desires to give 
you the method of controlling these rebellious watches.” 

“What is it ? what is it cried Master Zacharius. 

“You shall know on the day after that on which you 
have given me your daughter’s hand.’* 

“ My Gerande } ” 

“Herself!” 

“My daughter’s heart is not free,” replied Master 
Zacharius, who seemed neither astonished nor shocked at 
the strange demand. 

“ Bah ! She is not the least beautiful of watches ; but 
she will end by stopping also — ” 

“ My daughter, — my Gerande ! No !” 

“ Well, return to your watches. Master Zacharius. Ad- 
just and readjust them. Get ready the marriage of your 
daughter and your apprentice. Temper your springs with 
your best steel. Bless Aubert and the pretty Gerande. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


135 


But remember, your watches will never go, and Gerande 
will not wed Aubert !” 

Thereupon the little old man disappeared, but not so 
quickly that Master Zacharius could not hear six o^clock 
strike in his breast. 


136 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE CHURCH OF SAINT PIERRE. 

» 

Meanwhile Master Zacharius became more feeble in 
mind and body every day. An unusual excitement, in- 
deed, impelled him to continue his work more eagerly than 
ever, nor could his daughter entice him from it. 

His pride was still more aroused after the crisis to which 
his strange visitor had hurried him so treacherously, and he 
resolved to overcome, by the force of genius, the malign | 
influence which weighed upon his work and himself. He i 
first repaired to the various clocks of the town which were i 
confided to his care. He made sure, by a scrupulous 
examination, that the wheels were in good condition, the 
pivots firm, the weights exactly balanced. Every part, 
even to the bells, was examined .with the minute attention 
of a physician studying the breast of a patient. Nothing; 
indicated that these clocks were on the point of being 
affected by inactivity. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


137 


Gerande and Aubert often accompanied the old man on 
these visits. He would nd doubt have been pleased to see 
them eager to go with him, and certainly he would not 
have been so much absorbed in his approaching end, had 
he thought that his existence was to be prolonged by that 
of these cherished ones, and had he understood that some- 
thing of the life of a father always remains in his children. 

The old watchmaker, on returning home, resumed his 
labours with feverish zeal. Though persuaded that he 
would not succeed, it yet seemed to him impossible that 
this could be so, and he unceasingly took to pieces the 
watches which were brought to his shop, and put them 
together again. 

Aubert tortured his mind in vain to discover the causes 
of the evil. 

Master,” said he, this can only come from the wear of 
the pivots and gearing.” 

*^Do you want, then, to kill me, little by little .^” replied 
Master Zacharius passionately. “ Are these watches child’s 
work ? Was it lest I should hurt my fingers that I worked 
the surface of these copper pieces in the lathe ? Have I 
not forged these pieces of copper myself, so as to obtain a 
greater strength Are not these springs tempered to a 
rare perfection ? Could anybody have used finer oils than 
mine ? You must yourself agree that it is impossible, and 
you avow, in short, that the devil is in it ! ” 


138 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged 
the house, and they got access to the old watchmaker him- 
self, who knew not which of them to listen to. 

“ This watch loses, and I cannot succeed in regulating 
it,” said one. 

" This,” said another, ** is absolutely obstinate, and stands 
still, as did Joshua’s sun.” 

“ If it is true,” said most of them, “ that your health has 
an influence on that of your watches. Master Zacharius, 
get well as soon as possible.” 

The old man gazed at these people with haggard eyes, 
and only replied by shaking his head, or by a few sad 
words, — 

“Wait till the first fine weather, my friends. The season 
is coming which revives existence in wearied bodies. We 
want the sun to warm us all ! ” 

“A fine thing, if my watches are to be ill through the 
winter!” said one of the most angry. “Do you know, 
Master Zacharius, that your name is inscribed in full on 
their faces } By the Virgin, you do little honour to your 
signature I ” 

It happened at last that the old man, abashed by these 
reproaches, took some pieces of gold from his old trunk, 
and began to buy back the damaged watches. At news 
of this, the customers came in a crowd, and the poor watch- 
maker’s money fast melted away ; but his honesty remained 



FROM MORNING TILL NIGHT DISCONTENTED PURCHASERS BESIEGED 

THE HOUSE. 


Page 138 , 













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I 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


139 


intact. Gerande warmly praised his delicacy, which was 
leading him straight towards ruin ; and Aubert soon offered 
his own savings to his master. 

“What will become of my daughter?” said Master 
Zacharius, clinging now and then in the shipwreck to his 
paternal love. 

Aubert dared not answer that he was full of liope for 
the future, and of deep devotion to Gerande. Master 
Zacharius would have that day called him his son-in-law, 
and thus 'refuted the sad prophecy, which still buzzed in 
his ears, — 

“ Gerande will not wed Aubert.” 

By this plan the watchmaker at last succeeded in entirely 
despoiling himself. His antique vases passed into the 
hands of strangers ; he deprived himself of the richly-carved 
panels which adorned the walls of his house ; some primi- 
tive pictures of the early Flemish painters soon ceased 
to please his daughter’s eyes, and everything, even the 
precious tools that his genius had invented, were sold to 
indemnify the clamorous customers. 

Scholastique alone refused to listen to reason on the 
subject ; but her efforts failed to prevent the unwelcome 
visitors from reaching her master, and from soon departing 
with some valuable object. Then her chattering was heard 
in all the streets of the neighbourhood, where she had long 
been known. She eagerly denied the rumours of sorcery 


140 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


and magic on the part of Master Zacharius, which gained 
currency; but as at bottom she was persuaded of their 
truth, she said her prayers over and over again to redeem 
her pious falsehoods. 

It had been noticed that for some time the old watch- 
maker had neglected his religious duties. Time was, when 
he had accompanied Gerande to church, and had seemed 
to find in prayer the intellectual charm which it imparts to 
thoughtful minds, since it is the most sublime exercise of 
the imagination. . This voluntary neglect of holy practices, 
added to the secret habits of his life, had in some sort con- 
firmed the accusations levelled against his labours. So, 
with the double purpose of drawing her father back to God, 
and to the world, Gerande resolved to call religion to her 
aid. She thought that it might give some vitality to 
his dying soul ; but the dogmas of faith and humility 
had to combat, in the soul of Master Zacharius, an 
insurmountable pride, and came into collision with that 
vanity of science which connects everything with itsell, 
without rising to the infinite source whence first principles 
flow. 

It was under these circumstances that the young girl 
undertook her father’s conversion ; and her influence was 
so effective that the old watchmaker promised to attend 
high mass at the cathedral on the following Sunday. 
Gerande was in an ecstasy, as if heaven had opened tc 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


I41 


her view. Old Scholastique could not contain her joy, and 
at last found irrefutable arguments against the gossiping 
tongues which accused her mastej- of impiety. She spoke 
of it to her neighbours, her friends, her enemies, to those 
whom she knew not as well as to those whom she 
knew. 

“ In faith, we scarcely believe what you tell us, dame 
Scholastique,” they replied ; “ Master Zacharius has always 
acted in concert with the. devil !” 

“You haven’t counted, then,” replied the old servant, 
“ the fine bells which strike for my master’s clocks ? How 
many times they have struck the hours of prayer and the 
mass !” 

“ No doubt,” they would reply. “ But has he not in- 
vented machines which go all by themselves, and which 
actually do the work of a real man ?” 

“ Could a child of the devil,” exclaimed dame Scholas- 
tique wrathfully, “ have executed the fine iron clock of the 
chateau of Andernatt, which the town of Geneva was not 
rich enough to buy ? A pious motto appeared at each 
hour, and a Christian who obeyed them, would have 
gone straight to Paradise! Is that the work of the 
devil 

This masterpiece, made twenty years before, had carried 
Master Zacharius’s fame to its acme ; but even then there 
had been accusations of sorcery against him. But at least 


142 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


the old man’s visit to the Cathedral ought to reduce 
malicious tongues to silence. 

Master Zacharius, having doubtless forgotten the pro- 
mise made to his daughter, had returned to his shop. 
After being convinced of his powerlessness to give life to 
his watches, he resolved to try if he could not make some 
new ones. He abandoned all those useless works, and 
devoted himself to the completion of the crystal watch, 
which he intended to be his masterpiece ; but in vain did 
he use his most perfect tools, and employ rubies and 
diamonds for resisting friction. The watch fell from his 
hands the first time that he attempted to wind it up ! 

The old man concealed this circumstance from every 
one, even from his daughter ; but from that time his health 
rapidly declined. There were only the last oscillations of 
a pendulum, which goes slower when nothing restores its 
original force. It seemed as if the laws of gravity, acting 
directly upon him, were dragging him irresistibly down to 
the grave. 

The Sunday so ardently anticipated by Gerande at last 
arrived. The weather was fine, and the temperature 
inspiriting. The people of Geneva were passing quietly 
through the streets, gaily chatting about the return of 
spring. Gerande, tenderly taking the old man’s arm, 
directed her steps towards the cathedral, while Scholas- 
tique followed behind with the prayer-books People 




PiXgC 14 



MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


143 


looked curiously at them as they passed. The old 
watchmaker permitted himself to be led like a child, or 
rather like a blind man. The faithful of Saint Pierre were 
almost frightened when they saw him cross the threshold, 
and shrank back at his approach. 

The chants of high mass were already resounding through 
the church. Gerande went to her accustomed bench, and 
kneeled with profound and simple reverence. Master 
Zacharius remained standing upright beside her. 

The ceremonies continued with the majestic solemnity 
of that faithful age, but the old man had no faith. He did 
not implore the pity of Heaven with cries of anguish of the 
Kyrie ; ” he did not, with the “ Gloria in Excelsis,” sing 
the splendours of the heavenly heights ; the reading of the 
Testament did not draw him from his materialistic reverie, 
and he forgot to join in the homage of the Credo.” This 
proud old man remained motionless, as insensible and 
silent as a stone statue ; and even at the solemn moment 
when the bell announced the miracle of transubstantiation, 
he did not bow his head, but gazed directly at the sacred 
host which the priest raised above the heads of the faithful. 
Gerande looked at her father, and a flood of tears moistened 
her missal. At this moment the clock of Saint Pierre 
struck half-past eleven. Master Zacharius turned quickly 
towards this ancient clock which still spoke. It seemed to 
him as if its face was gazing steadily at him ; the figures 


144 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


of the hours shone as if they had been engraved in lines of 
fire, and the hands shot forth electric sparks from their 
sharp points. 

The mass en'ded. It was customary for the Angelus” 
to be said at noon, and the priests, before leaving the altar, 
waited for the clock to strike the hour of twelve. In a few 
moments this prayer would ascend to the feet of the Virgin. 

But suddenly a harsh noise was heard. Master Zacharius 
uttered a piercing cry. 

The large hand of the clock, having reached twelve, had 
abruptly stopped, and the clock did not strike the hour. 

Gerande hastened to her father’s aid. .He had fallen 
down motionless, and they carried him outside the church. 

‘Ht is the death-blow!” murmured Gerande, sobbing. 

When he had been borne home. Master Zacharius lay 
upon his bed utterly crushed. Life seemed only to still 
exist on the surface of his body, like the last whiffs of 
smoke about a lamp just extinguished. 

When he came to his senses, Aubert and Gerande were 
leaning over him. In these last moments the future took 
in his eyes the shape of the present. He saw his daughter 
alone, without a protector. 

“ My son,” said he to Aubert, “ I give my daughter to 
thee.” 

So saying, he stretched out his hands tow^ards his two 
children, ^ho were thus united at his death-bed. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


145 


But soon Master Zacharius lifted himself up in a 
paroxysm of rage. The words of the little old man 
recurred to his mind. 

“I do not wish to die!” he cried; cannot die I I, 
Master Zacharius, ought not to die! My books — my 
accounts ! — ” 

With these words he sprang from his bed towards a book 
in which the names of his customers and the articles which 
had been sold to them were inscribed. He seized it and 
rapidly turned over its leaves, and his emaciated finger 
fixed itself on one of the pages. 

“There!” he cried, “there! this old iron clock, sold to 
Pittonaccio ! It is the only one that has not been returned 
to me I It still exists — it goes — it lives ! Ah, I wish for it 
— I must find it ! I will take such care of it that death 
will no longer seek me !*' 

And he fainted away. 

Aubert and Gerande knelt by the old man’s bed-side 
and prayed together. 


246 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE HOUR OF DEATH. 

Several days passed, and Master Zacharlus, though 
almost dead, rose from his bed and returned to active life 
under a supernatural excitement. He lived by pride. But 
Gerande did not deceive herself ; her father’s body and 
soul were for ever lost. 

The old man got together his last remaining resources, 
without thought of those who were dependent upon him. 
He betrayed an incredible energy, walking, ferreting about, 
and mumbling sfrange, incomprehensible words. 

One morning Gerande went down to his shop. Master 
Zacharius was not there. She waited for him all day. 
Master Zacharius did not return. 

Gerande wept bitterly, but her father did not reappear. 
Aubert searched everywhere through the town, and soon 
came to the sad conviction that the old man had left it. 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


147 


“Let us find my father !” cried Gerande, when the young 
apprentice told her this sad news. 

“ Where can he be ? ” Aubert asked himself. 

An inspiration suddenly came to his mind. He remem- 
bered the last words which Master Zacharius had spoken. 
The old man only lived now in the old iron clock that had 
not been returned ! Master Zacharius must have gone in 
search of it. 

Aubert spoke of this to Gerande. 

“ Let us look at my father’s book,” she replied. 

They descended to the shop. The book was open 
on the bench. All the watches or clocks made by the 
old man, and which had been returned to him because 
they were out of order, were stricken out excepting 
one : — 

“Sold to M. Pittonaccio, an iron clock, with bell and moving figures ; sent 
to his chateau at Andernatt.” 

It was this “ moral ” clock of which Scholastique had 
.spoken with so much enthusiasm. 

“ My father is there ! ” cried Gerande. 

“Let us hasten thither,” replied Aubert. “We may 
still save him !” 

“ Not for this life,” murmured Gerande, “ but at least for 
the other.” 

“ By the mercy of God, Gerande ! The chateau of 
L 2 


148 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


Andernatt stands in the gorge of the ^ Dents-du-Midi/ 
twenty hours from Geneva. Let us go !” 

That very evening Aubert and Gerande, followed by the 
old servant, set out on foot by the road which skirts Lake 
Leman. They accomplished five leagues during the night, 
stopping neither at Bessinge nor at Ermance, where rises 
the famous chateau of the Mayors. They with difficulty 
forded the torrent of the Dranse, and everywhere they went 
they inquired for Master Zacharius, and were soon con- 
vinced that they were on his track. 

The next morning, at daybreak, having passed Thonon, 
they reached Evian, whence the Swiss territory may be seen 
extended over twelve leagues. But the two betrothed did 
not even perceive the enchanting prospect. They went 
straight forv/ard, urged on by a supernatural force. 
Aubert, leaning on a knotty stick, offered his arm alter- 
nately to Gerande and to Scholastique, and he made the 
greatest efforts to sustain his companions. All three 
talked of their sorrow, of their hopes, and thus passed along 
the beautiful road by the water-side, and across the narrow 
plateau which unites the borders of the lake with the 
heights of the Chalais. They soon reached Bouveret, 
where the Rhone enters the Lake of Geneva. 

On leaving this town they diverged from the lake, and 
their weariness increased amid these mountain districts. 
Vionnaz, Chesset, Collombay, half lost villages, were soon 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


149 


left behind. Meanwhile their knees shook, their feet were 
lacerated by the sharp points which covered the ground 
like a brushwood of granite; — but no trace of Master 
Zacharius ! 

He must be found, however, and the two young people 
did not seek repose either in the isolated hamlets or at the 
chateau of Monthay, which, with its dependencies, formed 
the appanage of Margaret of Savoy. At last, late in the 
day, and half dead with fatigue, they reached the hermitage 
of Notre-Dame-du-Sex, which is situated at the base of 
the Dents-du-Midi, six hundred feet above the Rhone. 

The hermit received the three wanderers as night was 
falling. They could not have gone another step, and here 
they must needs rest. 

The hermit could give them no news of Master Zacha- 
rius. They could scarcely hope to find him still living 
amid these sad solitudes. The night was dark, the wind 
howled amid the mountains, and the avalanches roared 
down from the summits of the broken crags. 

Aubert and Gerande, crouching before the hermit’s 
hearth, told him their melancholy tale. Their mantles, 
covered with snow, were drying in a corner ; and without, 
the hermit’s dog barked lugubriously, and mingled his 
voice with that of the tempest. 

^‘Pride,” said the hermit to his guests, “has destro^^ed an 
angel created for good. It is the stumbling-block against 


150 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


which the destinies of man strike. You cannot reason 
with pride, the principal of all the vices, since, by its very 
nature, the proud man refuses to listen to it. It only 
remains, then, to pray for your father ! ” 

All four knelt down, when the barking of the dog 
redoubled, and some one knocked at the door of the 
hermitage. 

Open, in the devil’s name ! ” 

The door yielded under the blows, and a dishevelled, 
haggard, ill-clothed man appeared. 

“My father!” cried Gerande. 

It was Master Zacharius. 

“Where am I ? ” said he. “ In eternity ! Time is ended 
— the hours no longer strike — the hands have stopped 1 ” 

“ Father I ” returned Gerande, with so piteous an emo- 
tion that the old man seenied to return to the world of the 
living. 

“ Thou here, Gerande ? ” he cried ; “ and thou, Aubert ? 
Ah, my dear betrothed ones, you are going to be married 
in our old church I ” 

“ Father,” said Gerande, seizing him by the arm, “come 
home to Geneva, — come with us I ” 

The old man tore away from his daughter’s embrace and 
hurried towards the door, on the threshold of which the 
o aow was falling in large flakes. 

“ Do not abandon your children 1” cried Aubert 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


15 1 

'^Why return,” replied the old man sadly, ^^to those 
places which my life has already quitted, and where a part 
of myself is for ever buried ? ” 

Your soul is not dead,” said the hermit solemnly. 

My soul O no, — its wheels are good ! I perceive it 
beating regularly — ” 

^^Your soul is immaterial, — your soul is immortal!” re- 
plied the hermit sternly. 

“ Yes — like my glory ! But it is shut up in the chateau 
of Andernatt, and I wish to see it again I ” 

The hermit crossed himself ; Scholastique became almost 
inanimate. Aubert held Gerande in his arms. 

“The chateau of Andernatt is inhabited by one who is 
lost,” said the hermit, “one who does not salute the 
cross of my hermitage.” 

“ My father, go not thither I ” 

“ I want my soul ! My soul is mine — ” 

“ Hold him! Hold my father ! ” cried Gerande. 

But the old man had leaped across the threshold, and 
plunged into the night, crying, “ Mine, mine, my soul ! ” 
Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique hastened after him. 
They went by difficult paths, across which Master Zacha- 
rius sped like a tempest, urged by an irresistible force. 
The snow raged around them, and mingled its white flakes 
with the froth of the swollen torrents. 

As they passed the chapel erected in memory of 


152 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


the massacre of the Theban legion, they hurriedly 
crossed themselves. Master Zacharius was not to be 
seen. 

At last the village of Evionnaz appeared in the midst of 
this sterile region. The hardest heart would have been 
moved to see this hamlet, lost among these horrible soli- 
tudes. The old man sped on, and plunged into the deepest 
gorge of the Dents-du-Midi, which pierce the sky with their 
sharp peaks. 

Soon a ruin, old and gloomy as the rocks at its base, 
rose before him. • 

“ It is there — there ! ” he cried, hastening his pace still 
more frantically. 

.The chateau of Andernatt was a ruin even then. A thick, 
crumbling tower rose above it, and seemed to menace with 
its downfall the old gables which reared themselves below. 
The vast piles of jagged stones were gloomy to look on. 
Several dark halls appeared amid the debris, with caved-in 
ceilings, now become the abode of vipers. 

A low and narrow postern, opening upon a ditch choked 
with rubbish, gave access to the chateau. Who had dwelt 
there none knew. No doubt some margrave, half lord, 
half brigand, had sojourned in it ; to the margrave had 
succeeded bandits or counterfeit coiners, who had been 
hanged on the scene of their crime. The legend went that, 
on winter nights, Satan came to lead his diabolical dances 



IT IS THERE — THERE I” 


Pa£^e 152 


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'i 



MASTER ZACHARTUS. 


153 


on the slope of the deep gorges in which the shadow of 
these ruins was engulfed. 

But Master Zacharius was not dismayed by their sinister 
aspect. He reached the postern. No one forbade him to 
pass. A spacious and gloomy court presented itself to his 
eyes ; no one forbade him to cross it. He passed along the 
kind of inclined plane which conducted to one of the long 
corridors, whose arches seemed to banish daylight from 
beneath their heavy springings. His advance was unre- 
sisted. Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique closely followed 
him. 

Master Zacharius, as if guided by an irresistible hand, 
seemed sure of his way, and strode along with rapid step. 
He reached an old worm-eaten door, which fell before his 
blows, whilst the bats described oblique circles around his 
head. 

An immense hall, better preserved than the rest, was soon 
reached. High sculptured panels, on which serpents, ghouls, 
and other strange figures seemed to disport themselves con- 
fusedly, covered its walls. Several long and narrow windows, 
like loopholes, shivered beneath the bursts of the tempest. 

Master Zacharius, on reaching the middle of this hall, 
uttered a cry of joy. 

On an iron support, fastened to the wall, stood the clock 
in which now resided his entire life. This unequalled 
masterpiece represented an ancient Roman church, with 


154 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


buttresses of wrought iron, with its heavy bell-tower, where 
there was a complete chime for the anthem of the day, the 
‘‘ Angelus,” the mass, vespers, compline, and the benediction. 
Above the church door, which opened at the hour of the 
services, was placed a “ rose,” in the centre of which two 
hands moved, and, the archivault of which reproduced the 
twelve hours of the face sculptured in relief. Between the 
door and the rose, just as Scholastique had said, a maxim, 
relative to the employment of every moment of the day, 
appeared on a copper plate. Master Zacharius had once 
regulated this succession of devices with a really Christian 
solicitude ; the hours of prayer, of work, of repast, of 
recreation, and of repose, followed each other according 
to the religious discipline, and were to infallibly insure 
salvation to him who scrupulously observed their com- 
mands. 

Master Zacharius, intoxicated with joy, went forward to 
take possession of the clock, when a frightful roar of 
laughter resounded behind him. 

He turned, and by the light of a smoky lamp recognized 
the little old man of Geneva. 

“You here.^” cried he. 

Gerande was afraid. She drew closer to Aubert. 

“ Good-day, Master Zacharius,” said the monster. 

“ Who are you .^ ” 

“Signor Pittonaccio, at your service I You have come to 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


155 


give me your daughter ! You have remembered my words, 
* Gerande will not wed Aubert.’ ” 

The young apprentice rushed upon Pittonaccio, who 
escaped from him like a shadow. 

Stop, Aubert ! ” cried Master Zacharius. 

Good-night,” said Pittonaccio, and he disappeared. 

“My father, let us fly from this hateful place!” cried 
Gerande. “ My father ! ” 

Master Zacharius was no longer there. He was pursuing 
the phantom of Pittonaccio across the rickety corridors. 
Scholastique, Gerande, and Aubert remained, speechless 
and fainting, in the large gloomy hall. The young girl had 
fallen upon a stone seat ; the old servant knelt beside her, 
and prayed ; Aubert remained erect, watching his betrothed. 
Pale lights wandered in the darkness, and the silence was 
only broken by the movements of the little animals which 
live in old wood, and the noise of which marks the hours of 
“ death watch.” 

When daylight came, they ventured upon the endless 
.staircase which wound beneath these ruined masses ; for 
two hours they wandered thus without meeting a living 
sotil, and hearing only a far-off echo responding to their 
cries. Sometimes they found themselves buried a hundred 
feet below the ground, and sometimes they reached places 
whence they could overlook the wild mountains. 

Chance brought them at last back again to the vast hall, 


156 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


which had sheltered them during this night of anguish. It 
was no longer empty. Master Zacharius and Pittonaccio 
were talking there together, the one upright and rigid as a 
corpse, the other crouching over a marble table. 

Master Zacharius, when he perceived Gerande, went 
forward and took her by the hand, and led her towards 
Pittonaccfc, saying, “ Behold your lord and master, my 
daughter. Gerande, behold your husband!” 

Gerande shuddered from head to foot. 

Never !” cried Aubert, “for she is my betrothed.” 

“ Never I” responded Gerande, like a plaintive echo. 

Pittonaccio began to laugh. 

“You wish me to die, then !” exclaimed the old man. 
“ There, in that clock, the last which goes of all which have 
gone from my hands, my life is shut up ; and this man tells 
me, ^When I have thy daughter, this clock shall belong to 
thee.* And this man will not rewind it. He can break it, 
and plunge me into chaos. Ah, my daughter, you no 
longer love me !” 

“ My father 1” murmured Gerande, recovering conscious- 
ness. 

“ If you knew what I have suffered, far away from this 
principle of my existence ! ” resumed the old man. “ Perhaps 
no one looked after this timepiece. Perhaps its springs 
were left to wear out, its wheels to get clogged. But now, 
in my own hands, I can nourish this health so dear, for I 




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SEJr; THIS MAN, — HE S TIME.” 


Page 157 









MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


157 


must not die, — I, the great watchmaker of Geneva. Look, 
my daughter, how these hands advance with certain step. 
See, five o’clock is about to strike. Listen well, and look at 
the maxim which is about to be revealed.” 

Five o’clock struck with a noise which resounded sadly 
in Gerande’s soul, and these words appeared in red letters : 

YOU MUST EAT OF THE FRUITS OF THE TREE OF 
SCIENCE.” 

Aubert and Gerande looked at each other stupefied. 
These were no longer the pious sayings of the Catholic 
watchmaker. The breath of Satan must have passed over 
it. But Zacharius paid no attention to this, and resumed — 

^*Dost thou hear, my Gerande.^ I live, I still live I 
Listen to my breathing, — see the blood circulating in my 
veins ! No, fhou wouldst not kill thy father, and thou wilt 
accept this man for thy husband, so that I may become 
immortal, and at last attain the power of God !” 

At these blasphemous words old Scholastique crossed 
herself, and Pittonaccio laughed aloud with joy. 

“And then, Gerande, thou wilt be happy with him. See 
this man, — he is Time ! Thy existence will be regulated 
with absolute precision. Gerande, since I gave thee life, 
give life to thy father !” 

“ Gerande,” murmured Aubert, “ I am thy betrothed.” 

“He is my father!” replied Gerande, fainting. 


158 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


‘‘She is thine!” said Master Zacharius. ** Pittonaccio, 
thou wilt keep thy promise 1” 

'' Here is the key of the clock,” replied the horrible 
man. 

Master Zacharius seized the long key, which resembled 
an uncoiled snake, and ran to the clock, which he hastened 
to wind up with fantastic rapidity. The creaking of the 
spring jarred upon the nerves. The old watchmaker wound 
and wound the key, without stopping a moment, and it 
seemed as if the movement were beyond his control. He 
wound more and more quickly, with strange contortions, 
until he fell from sheer weariness. 

There, it is wound up for a century!” he cried. 

Aubert rushed from the hall as if he were mad. After 
long wandering, he found the outlet of the hateful chateau, 
and hastened into the open air. He returned to the 
hermitage of Notre-Dame-du-Sex, and talked so despair- 
ingly to the holy recluse, that the latter consented to return 
with him to the chateau of Andernatt. 

If, during these hours of anguish, Gerande had not wept, 
it was because her tears were exhausted. 

Master Zacharius had not left the hall. He ran every 
moment to listen to the regular beating of the old clock. 

Meanwhile the clock had struck, and to Scholastique’s 

great terror, these words had appeared on the silver face : 

“MAN OUGHT TO BECOME THE EQUAL OF GOD.” 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


159 


The old man had not only not been shocked by these 
impious maxims, but read them deliriously, and flattered 
himself with thoughts of pride, whilst Pittonaccio kept 
close by him. 

The marriage-contract was to be signed at midnight. 
Gerande, almost unconscious, saw or heard nothing. The 
silence was only broken by the old man’s words, and the 
chuckling of Pittonaccio. 

Eleven o’clock struck. Master Zacharius shuddered, and 
read in a loud voice : — 

‘‘MAN SHOULD BE THE SLAVE OF SCIENCE, AND 
SACRIFICE TO IT RELATIVES AND FAMILY.” 

“Yes!” he cried, “there is nothing but science in this 
world!” 

The hands slipped over the face of the clock with the 
hiss of a serpent, and* the pendulum beat with accelerated 
strokes. 

Master Zacharius no longer spoke. He had fallen to the 
floor, his throat rattled, and from his oppressed bosom 
came only these half-broken words : “ Life— science !” 

The scene had now two new witnesses, the hermit and 
Aubert. Master Zacharius lay upon the floor ; Gerande 
was praying beside him, more dead than alive. 

Of a sudden a dry, hard noise was heard, which preceded 
the strike. 


i6o 


MASTER ZACHARIUS. 


Master Zacharius sprang up. 

“Midnight!” he cried. 

The hermit stretched out his hand towards the old 
clock, — and midnight did not sound. 

Master Zacharius uttered a terrible cry, which must have 
been heard in hell, when these words appeared : — 

“WHO EVER SHALL ATTEMPT TO MAKE HIMSELF THE 
EQUAL OF GOD, SHALL BE FOR EVER DAMNED 1 ” 

The old clock burst with a noise like thunder, and the 
spring, escaping, leaped across the hall with a thousand 
fantastic contortions ; the old man rose, ran after it, 
trying in vain to seize it, and exclaiming, “ My soul, — my 
soul!” 

The spring bounded before him, first on one side, then 
on the other, and he could not reach it. 

At last Pittonaccio seized it, and, uttering a horrible 
blasphemy, ingulfed himself in the earth. 

Master Zacharius fell backwards. He was dead. 

The old watchmaker was buried in the midst of the 
peaks of Andernatt. 

Then Aubert and Gerande returned to Geneva, and 
during the long life which God accorded to them, they 
made it a duty to redeem by prayer the soul of the 
castaway of 



HE WAS DEAD. 


Page i6o< 



A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


In the month of September, 185 — I arrlyed at Frankfort- 
on-the-Maine. My passage through the principal German 
cities had been brilliantly marked by balloon ascents ; but 
as yet no German had accompanied me in my car, and the 
fine experiments made at Paris by MM. Green, Eugene 
Godard, and Poitevin had not tempted the grave Teutons 
to essay aerial voyages. 

But scarcely had the news of my approaching ascent 
spread through Frankfort, than three of the principal 
citizens begged the favour of being allowed to ascend with 
me. Two days afterwards we were to start from the Placb 
de la Comedie. I began at once to get my balloon ready. 
It was of silk, prepared with gutta percha, a substance 
impermeable by acids or gasses; and its volume, which was 
three thousand cubic yards, enabled it to ascend to the 
loftiest heights. 


M 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


162 

The day of the ascent was that of the great September 
fair, which attracts so many people to Frankfort. Lighting 
gas, of a perfect quality and of great lifting power, had 
been furnished to me in excellent condition, and about 
eleven o’clock the balloon was filled ; but only three- 
quarters filled, — an indispensable precaution, for, as one 
rises, the atmosphere diminishes in density, and the fluid 
enclosed within the balloon, acquiring more elasticity, 
might burst its sides. My calculations had furnished me 
with exactly the quantity of gas necessary to carry up my 
companions and myself. 

We were to start at noon. The impatient crowd which 
pressed around the enclosed space, filling the enclosed 
square, overflowing into the contiguous streets, and cover- 
ing the houses from the ground-floor to the slated gables, 
presented a striking scene. The high winds of the pre- 
ceding days had subsided. An oppressive heat fell from the 
cloudless sky. Scarcely a breath animated the atmo- 
sphere. In such weather, one might descend again upon 
the very spot whence he had risen. 

I carried three hundred pounds of ballast in bags ; the 
car, quite round, four feet in diameter, was comfortably 
arranged ; the hempen cords which supported it stretched 
symmetrically over the upper hemisphere of the balloon ; 
the compass was in place, the barometer suspended in the 
circle which united the supporting cords, and the anchor 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


163 


carefully put in order. All was now ready for the 
ascent. 

Among those who pressed around the enclosure, I re- 
marked a young man with a pale face and agitated features. 
The sight of him impressed me. He was an eager spectator 
of my ascents, whom I had already met in several German 
cities. With an uneasy air, he closely w^atched the curious 
machine, as it lay motionless a few feet above the ground ; 
and he remained silent among those about him. 

Twelve o’clock came. The moment had arrived, but my 
travelling companions did not appear. 

I sent to their houses, and learnt that one had left for 
Hamburg, another for Vienna, and the third for London. 
Their courage had failed them at the moment of under- 
taking one of those excursions which, thanks to the ability 
of living aeronauts, are free from all danger. As they 
formed, in some sort, a part of the programme of the day, 
the fear had seized them that they might be forced to 
execute it faithfully, and they had fled far from the scene 
at the instant when the balloon was being fllled. Their 
courage was evidently the inverse ratio of their speed — in 
decamping. 

The multitude, half deceived, showed not a little ill- 
humour. I did not hesitate to ascend alone. In order to 
re-establish the equilibrium between the specific gravity of 
the balloon and the weight which had thus proved wanting, 

M 2 


164 


A DRAxMA IN THE AIR. 


I replaced my companions by more sacks of sand, and got 
into the car. The twelve men who held the balloon by 
twelve cords fastened to the equatorial circle, let them slip 
a little between their fingers, and the balloon rose several 
feet higher. There was not a breath of wind, and the 
atmosphere was so leaden that it seemed to forbid the 
ascent. 

“Is everything ready ” I cried. 

The men put themselves in readiness. A last glance 
told me that I might go. 

“Attention! ” 

There was a movement in the crowd, which seemed to be 
invading the enclosure. 

“ Let go 1 ” 

The balloon rose slowly, but I experienced a shock which 
threw me to the bottom of the car. 

When I got up, I found myself face to face with an 
unexpected fellow-voyager, — the pale young man. 

“ Monsieur, I salute you,” said he, with the utmost cool- 
ness. 

“ By what right—” 

“ Am I here .? By the right which the impossibility of 
your getting rid of me confers.” 

I was amazed I His calmness put me out of countenance, 
and I had nothing to reply. I looked at the intruder, but 
he took no notice of my astonishment 





ff 


M»)NSIKI;R, I SALUTE YOU. 


Pa£e 164 





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A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


i6s 

''Does my weight disarrange your equilibrium, mon- 
sieur?” he asked. “ You will permit me — ” 

And without waiting for my consent, he relieved the 
balloon of two bags, which he threw into space. 

“ Monsieur,” said I, taking the only course now possible, 

you have come ; very well, you will remain ; but to me 
alone belongs the management of the balloon.” 

" Monsieur,” said he, ''your urbanity is French all over: 
it comes from my own country. I morally press the hand 
you refuse me. Make all precautions, and act as seems 
best to you. I will wait till you have done—” 

"For what?” 

"To talk with you.” 

The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches. We 
were nearly six hundred yards above the city ; but nothing 
betrayed the horizontal displacement of the balloon, for 
the mass of air in which it is enclosed goes forward with it. 
A sort of confused glow enveloped the objects spread out 
under us, and unfortunately obscured their outline. 

I examined my companion afresh. 

He was a man of thirty years, simply clad. The sharp- 
ness of his features betrayed an indomitable energy, and he 
seemed very muscular. Indifferent to the astonishment he 
created, he remained motionless, trying to distinguish the 
objects which were vaguely confused below us. 

"Miserable mist!” said he, after a few moments. 


i66 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


I did not reply. 

“You owe me a grudge ?” he went on. “Bah ! I could 
not pay for my journey, and it was necessary to take you 
by surprise.” 

“Nobody asks you to descend, monsieur!” 

“ Eh, do you not know, then, that the same thing hap- 
pened to the Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre, when 
they ascended at Lyons, on the 15th of January, 1784 ? A 
young merchant, named Fontaine, scaled the gallery, at 
the risk of capsizing the machine. He accomplished the 
journey, and nobody died of it!” 

“Once on the ground, we will have an explanation,” 
replied I, piqued at the light tone in which he spoke. 

“ Bah ! Do not let us think of our return.” 

“ Do you think, then, that I shall not hasten to 
descend ?” 

“Descend!” said he, in surprise. “Descend.? Let us 
begin by first ascending.” 

And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been 
thrown over the car, without even having been emptied. 

“ Monsieur !” cried I, in a rage. 

“I know your ability,” replied the unknown quietly, 
“and your fine ascents are famous. But if Experience is 
the sister of Practice, she is also a cousin of Theory, and I 
have studied the aerial art long. It has got into my head !” 
he added sadly, falling into a silent reverie. 


t 



“ MOXSIF.rR !” CRIF.I) I, IN A R.ACF. 


1 66. 







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A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


167 


The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now 
became stationary. The unknown consulted the barometer, 
and said, — 

“ Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like 
insects. See ! I think we should always contemplate 
them from' this height, to judge correctly of their propor- 
tions. The Place de la Comedie is transformed into an 
immense ant-hill. Observe the crowd which is gathered 
on the quays ; and the mountains also get smaller and 
smaller. We are over the Cathedral. The Main is only a 
line, cutting the city in two, and the bridge seems a thread 
thrown between the two banks of the river.” 

The atmosphere became somewhat chilly. 

‘‘There is nothing I would not do for you, my host,” 
said the unknown. “If you are cold, I will take off my 
coat and lend it to you.” 

“ Thanks,” said I dryly. 

“Bah! Necessity makes law. Give me your hand. I 
am your fellow-countryman ; you will learn something in 
my company, and my conversation will indemnify you for 
the trouble I have given you.” 

I sat down, without replying, at the opposite extremity 
of the car. The young man had taken a voluminous 
manuscript from his great -coat. It was an essay on 
ballooning. 

“I possess,” said he, “the most curious collection of 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


1 68 

engravings and caricatures extant concerning aerial 
manias. How people admired and scoffed at the same 
time at this precious discovery ! We are happily no 
longer in the age in which Montgolfier tried to make 
artificial clouds with steam, or a gas having electrical 
properties, produced by the combustion of moist straw 
and chopped-up wool.” 

“ Do you wish to depreciate the talent of the inventors ?’* 
I asked, for I had resolved to enter into the adventure. 
“ Was it not good to have proved by experience the possi- 
bility of rising in the air.?” 

“ Ah, monsieur, who denies the glory of the first aerial 
navigators ? It required immense courage to rise by means 
of those frail envelopes which only contained heated air. 
But I ask you, has the aerial science made great progress 
since Blanchard’s ascensions, that is, since nearly a century 
ago .? Look here, monsieur.” 

The unknown took an engraving from his portfolio. 

‘^Here,” said he, the first aerial voyage undertaken 
by Pilatre des Rosiers and the Marquis d’Arlandes, four 
months after the discoveiy of balloons. Louis JCVI. re- 
fused to consent to the venture, and two men who were 
condemned to death were the first to attempt the aerial 
ascent. Pilatre des Rosiers became indignant at this im- 
justice, and, by means of intrigues, obtained permission to 
make the experiment. The car, which renders the manage.- 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


169 


ment easy, had not then been invented, and a circular 
gallery was placed around the lower and contracted part of 
the Montgolfier balloon. The two aeronauts must then 
remain motionless at each extremity of this gallery, for 
the moist straw which filled it forbade them all motion. 
A chafing-dish with fire was suspended below the orifice of 
the balloon ; when the aeronauts wished to rise, they threw 
straw upon this brazier, at the risk of setting fire to the 
balloon, and the air, more heated, gave it fresh ascending 
power. The two bold travellers rose, on the 21st of 
November, 1783, from the Muette Gardens, which the 
dauphin had put at their disposal. The balloon went up 
majestically, passed over the Isle of Swans, crossed the 
Seine at the Conference barrier, and, drifting between the 
dome of the Invalides and the Military School, approached 
the Church of Saint Sulpice. Then the aeronauts added 
to the fire, crossed the ^Boulevard, and descended beyond 
the Enfer barrier. As it touched the soil, the balloon 
collapsed, and for a few moments buried Pilatre des Rosiers 
under its folds.” 

“ Unlucky augury,” I said, interested in the story, which 
affected me nearly. 

‘‘An augury of the catastrophe which was later to cost 
this unfortunate man his life,” replied the unknown sadly. 
“ Have you never experienced anything like it ?” 

“Never.” 


170 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


'‘Bah! Misfortunes sometimes occur unforeshadowed 1” 
added my companion. 

He then remained silent. 

Meanwhile we were advancing southward, and Frankfort 
had already passed from beneath us. 

“ Perhaps we shall have a storm,” said the young man. 

“We shall descend before that,” I replied. 

“Indeed! It is better to ascend. We shall escape 
it more surely.” 

And two more bags of sand were hurled into space. 

The balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred 
yards. I became colder ; and yet the sun’s rays, falling 
upon the surface, expanded the gas within, and gave it a 
greater ascending force. 

“Fear nothing,” said the unknown. “We have still 
three thousand five hundred fathoms of breathing air. 
Besides, do not trouble yourself about what I do.” 

I would have risen, but a vigorous hand held me to my 
seat. 

“Your name.^” I asked. 

“My name } What matters it to you 

“I demand your name!” 

“ My name is Erostratus or Empedocles, whichever you 
choose !” 

This reply was far from reassuring. 

The unknown, besides, talked with such strange cool- 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


171 

ness that I anxiously asked myself whom I had to deal 
with. 

Monsieur,” he continued, “ nothing original has been 
imagined since the physicist Charles. Four months after 
the discovery of balloons, this able man had invented the 
valve, which permits the gas to escape when the balloon is 
too full, or when you wish to descend ; the car^ which aids 
the management of the machine ; the netting, which holds 
the envelope of the balloon, and divides the weight over 
its whole surface ; the ballast, which enables you to ascend, 
and to choose the place of your landing ; the india-rubber 
coating, which renders the tissue impermeable ; the baro- 
meter, which shows the height attained. Lastly, Charles 
used hydrogen, which, fourteen times lighter than air, 
permits you to penetrate to the highest atmospheric 
regions, and does not expose you to the dangers of a 
combustion in the air. On the ist of December, 1783, 
three hundred thousand spectactors were crowded around 
the Tuileries. Charles rose, and the soldiers presented 
arms to him. He travelled nine leagues in the air, con- 
ducting his balloon with an ability not surpassed by 
modern aeronauts. The king awarded him a pension 
of two thousand livres ; for then they encouraged new 
inventions.” 

The unknown now seemed to be under the influence of 
considerable agitation. 


1/2 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


Monsieur,” he resunied, I have studied this, and I am 
convinced that the first aeronauts guided their balloons. 
Without speaking of Blanchard, whose assertions may be 
received with doubt, Guyton-Morveaux, by the aid of oars 
and rudder, made his machine answer to the helm, and take 
the direction he determined on. More recently, M. Julien, 
a watchmaker, made some convincing experiments at the 
Hippodrome, in Paris ; for, by a special mechanism, his 
aerial apparatus, oblong in form, went visibly against the 
wind. It occurred to M. Petin to place four hydrogen 
balloons together ; and, by means of sails hung horizontally 
and partly folded, he hopes to be able to disturb the 
equilibrium, and, thus inclining the apparatus, to convey 
it in an oblique direction. They speak, also, of forces to 
overcome the resistance of currents, — for instance, the 
screw ; but the screw, working on a moveable centre, will 
give no result. I, monsieur, have discovered the only 
means of guiding balloons ; and no academy has come to 
my aid, no city has filled up subscriptions for me, no 
government has thought fit to listen to me! It is in- 
famous!” 

The unknown gesticulated fiercely, and the car underwent 
violent oscillations. I had much trouble in calming him. 

Meanwhile the balloon had entered a more rapid current, 
and we advanced south, at fifteen hundred yards above the 
earth. 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


173 


See, there is Darmstadt,” said my companion, leaning 
over the car. Do you perceive the chateau } Not very 
distinctly, eh > What would you have } The heat of the 
storm makes the outline of objects waver, .and you must 
have a skilled eye to recognize localities.” 

‘‘Are you certain it is Darmstadt V I asked. 

“ I am sure of it. We .are now six leagues from ' 
Frankfort.” 

“ Then we must descend.” 

“Descend! You would not go down on the steeples,” 
said the unknown, with a chuckle. 

“ No, but in the suburbs of the city.” 

“Well, let us avoid the steeples!” 

So speaking, my companion seized some bags of ballast. 

I hastened to prevent him ; but he overthrev/ me with one 
hand, and the unballasted balloon ascended to two thou- 
sand yards. 

“ Rest easy,” .said he, “ and do not forget that Brioschi, 
Biot, Gay-Lussac, Bixio, and Barral ascended to still greater 
heights to make their scientific experiments.” 

“Monsieur, we must descend,” I resumed, trying to 
persuade him by gentleness. “The storm is gathering 
around us. It would be more prudent — ” 

‘•Bah ! We will mount higher than the storm, and then 
we shall no longer fear it !” cried my companion. “What 
is nobler than to overlook the clouds which oppress the 


174 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


earth } Is it not an honour* thus to navigate on aerial 
billows } The greatest men have travelled as we are doing. 
The Marchioness and Countess de Montalembert, the 
Countess of Podenas, Mademoiselle la Garde, the Marquis 
de Montalembert, rose from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine 
for these unknown regions, and the Duke de Chartres 
exhibited much skill and presence of mind in his ascent on 
the 15th of July, 1784. At Lyons, the Counts of Lau- 
rencin and Dampierre at Nantes, M. de Luynes ; at 
Bordeaux, D’Arbelet des Granges ; in Italy, the Chevalier 
Andreani ; in our own time, the Duke of Brunswick, — have 
all left the traces of their glory in the air. To equal these 
great personages, we must penetrate still higher than they 
into the celestial depths ! To approach the infinite is to 
comprehend it !” 

The rarefaction of the air was fast expanding the hydrogen 
in the balloon, and I saw its lower part, purposely left 
empty, swell out, so that it was absolutely necessary to 
open the valve ; but my companion did not seem to intend 
that I should manage the balloon as I wished. I then 
resolved to pull the valve cord secretly, as he was excitedly 
talking ; for I feared to guess with whorn I had to deal. It 
would have been too horrible! It was nearly a quarter 
before one. We had been gone forty minutes from Frank- 
^rt ; heavy clouds were coming against the wind from the 
south, and seemed about to burst upon us. 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


175 


Have you lost all hope of succeeding in your project } ” 
I asked with anxious interest. 

^‘All hope!” exclaimed the unknown in a low voice. 
‘^Wounded by slights and caricatures, these asses* kicks 
have finished me I It is the eternal punishment reserved 
for innovators ! Look at these caricatures of all periods, of 
which my portfolio is full.’* 

While my companion was fumbling with his papers, I 
had seized the valve-cord without his perceiving it. I 
feared, however, that he might hear the hissing noise, like a 
water-course, which the gas makes in escaping. 

** How many jokes were made about the Abbd Miolan ! 
said he. “He was to go up with janninet and Bredin. 
During the filling their balloon caught fire, and the ignorant 
populace tore it in .pieces ! Then this caricature of ' curious 
animals ’ appeared, giving each of them a punning nick- 
name,” 

I pulled the valve-cord, and the barometer began to 
ascend. It was time. Some far-off rumblings were heard 
in the south. 

“ Here is another engraving,” resumed the unknown, not 
suspecting what I was doing. “ It is an immense balloon 
carrying a ship, strong castles, houses, and so on. The 
caricaturists did not suspect that their follies would one 
day become truths. It is complete, this large vessel. On 
the left is its helm, with the pilot’s box ; at the prow are 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


i;6 

pleasure-houses, an immense organ, and a cannon to call 
the attention of the inhabitants of the earth or the moon ; 
above the poop there are the observatory and the balloon 
long-boat ; in the equatorial circle, the army barrack ; on 
the left, the funnel ; then the upper galleries for pro- 
menading, sails, pinions ; below, the Cafes and general 
storehouse. Observe this pompous announcement : ^ In- 
vented for the happiness of the human race, this globe will 
depart at once for the ports of the Levant, and on its return 
the programme of its voyages to the two poles and the 
extreme west will be announced. No one need furnish 
himself with anything ; everything is foreseen, and all will 
prosper. There will be a uniform price for all places of 
destination, but it will be the same for the most distant 
countries of our hemisphere — that is to say, a thousand 
louis for one of any of the said journeys. And it must be 
confessed that this sum is very moderate, when the speed, 
comfort, and arrangements which will be enjoyed on the 
balloon are considered — arrangements which are not to be 
found on land, while on the balloon each passenger may 
consult his own habits and tastes. This is so true that in 
the same place some will be dancing, others standing ; some 
will be enjoying delicacies ; others fasting. Whoever desires 
the society of wits may satisfy himself ; whoever is stupid 
may find stupid people to keep him company. Thus 
pleasure will be the soul of the aerial company.’ All this 



“ HE CONTINUED HIS OBSERVATIONS FOR SEVEN OR EIGHT HOURS 

WITH GENERAL MORLOT.” 


Page 178 


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A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


177 


provoked laughter ; but before long, if I am not cut off, 
they will see it all realized.” 

We were visibly descending. He did not perceive it ! 

This kind of 'game at balloons,’” he resumed, spreading 
out before me some of the engravings of his valuable col- 
lection, "this game contains the entire history of the 
aerostatic art. It is used by elevated minds, and is played 
with dice and counters, with whatever stakes you like, to be 
paid or received according to where the player arrives.” 

" Why,” said 1, " you seem to have studied the science of 
aerostation profoundly.’' 

"Yes, monsieur, yes i From Phaethon, Icarus, Architas, 
I have searched for, examined, learnt everything. I could 
render immense services to the world in this art, if God 
granted me life. But that will not be ! ” 

"Why.?” • 

" Because my name is Empedocles, or Erostratus.” 

Meanwhile, the balloon was happily approaching the 
earth ; but when one is falling, the danger is as great at a 
hundred feet as at five thousand. 

" Do you recall the battle of Fleurus .?”' resumed my com- 
panion, whose face became more and more animated. " It 
was at that battle that Contello, by order of the Govern- 
ment, organized a company of balloonists. At the siege of 
Manbenge General Jourdan derived so much service from 
this new method of observation that Contello ascended 

N 


178 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


twice a day with the general himself. The communications 
between the aeronaut and his agents who held the balloon 
were made by means of small white, red, and yellow flags. 
Often the gun and cannon shot were directed upon the 
balloon when he ascended, but without result. When 
General Jourdan was preparing to invest Charleroi, Con- 
tello went into the vicinity, ascended from the plain of 
Jumet, and continued his observations for seven or eight 
hours with General Morlot, and this no doubt aided in 
giving us the victory of Fleurus. General Jourdan publicly 
acknowledged the help which the aeronautical observations 
had afforded him. Well, despite the services rendered on 
that occasion and during the Belgian campaign, the year 
which had seen the beginning of the military career of 
balloons saw also its end. The school of Meudon, founded 
by the Government, was closed by Buonaparte on his 
return from Egypt. And now, what can you expect from 
the new-born infant > as Franklin said. The infant was 
born alive ; it should not be stifled ! 

The unknown bowed his head in his hands, and reflected 
for some moments ; then raising his head, he said, — 

Despite my prohibition, monsieur, you have opened the 
valve.” 

I dropped the cord. 

Happily,” he resumed, ‘‘we have still three hundred 
pounds of ballast.” 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


179 


What is your purpose said I. 

‘‘ Have you ever crossed the seas he asked. 

I turned pale. 

** It is unfortunate,” he went on, " that we are being driven 
towards the Adriatic. That is only a stream ; but higher 
up we may find other currents.” 

And, without taking any notice of me, he threw over 
several bags of sand ; then, in a menacing voice, he said, — 

“ I let you open the vaive because the expansion of the 
gas threatened to burst the balloon ; but do not do it 
again !” 

Then he went on as follows ; — 

“You remember the voyage of Blanchard and Jeffries 
from Dover to Calais ? It was magnificent ! On tne 7th of 
January, 1785, there being a north-west wind, their balloon 
was inflated with gas on the Dover coast. A mistake of 
equilibrium, just as they were ascending, forced them to 
throw out their ballast so that they might not go down 
again, and they only kept thirty pounds. It was too little ; 
for, as the wind did not freshen, they only advanced very 
slowly towards the French coast. Besides, the permeability 
of the tissue served to reduce the inflation little by little, 
and in an hour and a half the aeronauts perceived that they 
were descending. 

“ * What shall we do ^ said Jeffries. 

“ ‘ We are only one quarter of the way over,’ replied 
N 2 


l8o A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 

Blanchard, ‘and very low down. On rising, we shall 
perhaps meet more favourable winds.’ 

“ ‘ Let us throw out the rest of the sand/ 

“ The balloon acquired some ascending force, but 
it soon began to descend again.' Towards the middle 
of the transit the aeronauts threw over their books and 
tools. A quarter of an hour after, Blanchard said to 
Jeffries, — 

“ ‘The barometer ?* 

“ ‘ It is going up ! We are lost, and yet there is the 
Trench coast.’ 

“A loud noise was heard. 

“ ‘ Has the balloon burst ?’ asked Jeffries. 

“ ‘No. The loss of the gas has reduced the inflation of 
the lower part of the balloon. But we are still descending. 
We are lost ! Out with everything useless !’ 

“ Provisions, oars, and rudder were thrown into the sea. 
The aeronauts were only one hundred yards high. 

“ ‘We are going up again,’ said the doctor. 

“ ‘ No. It is the spurt caused by the diminution of the 
weight, and not a ship in sight, not a bark on the horizon ! 
To the sea with our clothing !’ 

“ The unfortunates stripped themselves, but the balloon 
continued to descend. 

“‘Blanchard,’ said Jeffries, ‘you should have made 
this voyage alone ; you consented to take me ; I will 



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THE BALLOON BECAME LESS AND LESS INFLATED.” 


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Page i8i 



A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


I8l 


sacrifice myself! I am going to throw myself into the 
water, and the balloon, relieved of my weight, will mount 
again.’ 

' No, no ! It is frightful !* 

The balloon became less and less inflated, and as it 
doubled up its concavity pressed the gas against the sides, 
and hastened its downward course. 

‘Adieu, my friend,’ said the doctor. ‘ God preserve 
you I’ 

“He was about to throw himself over, when Blanchard 
held him back. 

“ ‘ There is one more chance,’ said he. ‘ We can cut the 
cords which hold the car, and cling to the net I Perhaps 
the balloon will rise. Let us hold ourselves ready. But — 
the barometer is going down ! The wind is freshening ! 
We are saved !’ 

“ The aeronauts perceived Calais. Their joy was delirious. 
A few moments more, and they had fallen in the forest of 
Guines. I do not doubt,” added the unknown, “that, under 
similar circumstances, you would have followed Doctor 
Jeffries’ example!” 

The clouds rolled in glittering masses beneath us. The 
balloon threw large shadows on this heap of clouds, and 
was surrounded as by an aureola. The thunder rumbled 
below the car. All this was terrifying. 

“ Let us descend ! ” I cried. 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


182 


“Descend, when the sun is up there, waiting for us? 
Out with more bags !” 

And more than fifty pounds of ballast were cast over. 

At a height of three thousand five hundred yards we 
remained stationary. 

The unknown talked unceasingly. I was in a state of 
complete prostration, while he seemed to be in his element, 

“With a good wind, we shall go far,” he cried. “ In the 
Antilles there are currents of air which have a speed of a 
hundred leagues an hour. When Napoleon was crowned, 
Garnerin sent up a balloon with coloured lamps, at eleven 
o’clock at night. The wind was blov/ing north-north-west. 
The next morning, at daybreak, the inhabitants of Rome 
greeted its passage over the dome of St. Peter’s. We shall 
go farther and higher !” 

I scarcely heard him. Everything whirled around me. 
An opening appeared in the clouds. 

“ See that city,” said the unknown. “ It is Spires ! ” 

I leaned over the car and perceived a small blackish 
mass. It was Spires. The Rhine, which is so large, seemed 
an unrolled ribbon. The sky was a deep blue over our 
heads. The birds had long abandoned us, for in that rare- 
fied air they could not have flown. We were alone in space, 
and I in presence of this unknown I 

“ It is useless for you to know whither I am leading you,” 
he said, as he threw the compass among the clouds. “ Ah 1 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


183 

a fall is a grand thing! You know that but few victims of 
ballooning are to be reckoned, from Pilatre des Rosiers to 
Lieutenant Gale, and that the accidents have always been 
the result of imprudence. Pilatre des Rosiers set out with 
Romain of Boulogne, on the 13th of June, 1785. To his 
gas balloon he had affixed a Montgolfier apparatus of hot 
air, so as to dispense, no doubt, with the necessity of losing 
gas or throwing out ballast. It was putting a torch under 
a powder-barrel. When they had ascended four hundred 
yards, and were taken by opposing winds, they were driven 
over the open sea. Pilatre, in order to descend, essayed to 
open the valve, but the valve-cord became entangled in the 
balloon, and tore it so badly that it became empty in an 
instant. It fell upon the Montgolfier apparatus, overturned 
it, and dragged down the unfortunates, who were soon 
shattered to pieces I It is frightful, is it not ^ ” 

I could only reply, “For pity’s sake, let us descend I” 
The clouds gathered around us on every side, and 
dreadful detonations, which reverberated in the cavity of 
the balloon, took place beneath us. 

“You provoke me,” cried the unknown, “and you shall 
no longer know whether we are rising or falling I ” 

The barometer went the way of the compass, accompanied 
by several more bags of sand. We must have been 500Q 
yards high. Some icicles had already attached themselve? 
to the sides of the car, and a kind of fine snow seemed to 


1 84 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


penetrate to my very bones. Meanwhile a frightful tempest 
was raging under us, but we were above it. 

Do* not be afraid,” said the unknown. It is only the 
imprudent who are lost. Olivari, who perished at Orleans, 
rose in a paper ^Montgolfier;’ his car, suspended below 
the chafing-dish, and ballasted with combustible materials, 
caught fire ; Olivari fell, and was killed ! Mosment rose, 
at Lille, on a light tray; an oscillation disturbed his 
equilibrium ; Mosment fell, and was killed ! Bittorf, at 
Mannheim, saw his balloon catch fire in the air; and he, 
too, fell, and was killed ! Harris rose in a badly constructed 
balloon, the valve of which was too large and would not 
shut ; Harris fell, and was killed ! Sadler, deprived of 
ballast by his long sojourn in the air, was dragged over the 
town of Boston and dashed against the chimneys ; Sadler 
fell, and was killed ! Cokling descended with a convex 
parachute which he pretended to have perfected ; Cokling 
fell, and was killed ! Well, I love them, these victims of 
their own imprudence, and I shall die as they did. Higher! 
still higher I” 

All the phantoms of this necrology passed before my 
eyes. The rarefaction of the air and the sun’s rays added 
to the expansion of the gas, and the balloon continued to 
mount. I tried mechanically to open the valve, but the 
unknown cut the cord several feet above my head. I was 
lost I 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


185 

'^Did you see Madame Blanchard fall?” said he. 
saw her ; yes, I ! I was at Tivoli on the 6th of July, 1819. 
Madame Blanchard rose in a small sized balloon, to avoid 
the expense of filling, and she was forced to entirely inflate 
it. The gas leaked out below, and left a regular train of 
hydrogen in its path. She carried with her a sort of pyro- 
technic aureola, suspended below her car by a wire, which 
she was to set off in the air. This she had done many 
times before. On this day she also carried up a small 
parachute ballasted by a firework contrivance, that would 
go off in a shower of silver. She was to start this con- 
trivance after having lighted it with a port-fire made on 
purpose. She set out ; the night was gloomy. At the 
moment of lighting her fireworks she was so imprudent as 
to pass the taper under the column of hydrogen which was 
leaking from the balloon. My eyes were fixed upon her. 
Suddenly an unexpected gleam lit up the darkness. I 
thought she was preparing a surprise. The light flashed 
out, suddenly disappeared and reappeared, and gave the 
summit of the balloon the shape of an immense jet of 
ignited gas. This sinister glow shed itself over the 
Boulevard and the whole Montmartre quarter. Then I 
saw the unhappy woman rise, try twice to close the 
appendage of the balloon, so as to put out the fire, then 
sit down in her car and try to guide her descent ; for she 
did not fall. The combustion of the gas lasted for several 


i86 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


minutes. The balloon, becoming gradually less, continued 
to descend, but it was not a fall. The wind blew from the 
north-west and drove it towards Paris. There were then 
some large gardens just by the house No. i6. Rue de 
Provence. Madame Blanchard essayed to fall there without 
danger : but the balloon and the car struck on the roof of 
the house with a light shock. *Save me!^ cried the 
wretched woman. I got into the street at this moment. 
The car slid along the roof, and encountered an iron cramp. 
At this concussion, Madame Blanchard was thrown out of 
her car and precipitated upon the pavement. She was 
killed!” 

These stories froze me with horror. The unknown was 
standing with bare head, dishevelled hair, haggard eyes ! 

There was no longer any illusion possible. I at last 
recognized the horrible truth. I was in the presence of a 
madman ! 

He threw out the rest of the ballast, and we must have 
now reached a height of at least nine thousand yards. 
Blood spurted from my nose and mouth ! 

“Who are nobler than the martyrs of science?” cried 
the lunatic. “ They are canonized by posterity.” 

But I no longer heard him. He looked about him, and, 
bending down to my ear, muttered, — 

“And have you forgotten Zambecarri’s catastrophe 
Listen. On the 7th of October, 1804, the clouds seemed 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


187 


to lift a little. On the preceding days, the wind and 
.rain had not ceased; but the announced ascension of 
Zambecarri could not be postponed. His enemies were 
already bantering him. It was necessary to ascend, to 
save the science and himself from becoming a public 
jest. It was at Boulogne. No one helped him to inflate 
his balloon. 

*'He rose at midnight, accompanied by Andreoli and 
Grossetti. The balloon mounted slowly, for it had been 
perforated by the rain, and the gas was leaking out. The 
three intrepid aeronauts could only observe the state of the 
barometer by aid of a dark lantern. Zambecarri had 
eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. Grossetti was also 
fasting. 

'' ' My friends,’ said Zambecarri, ‘ I am overcome by cold, 
and exhausted. I am dying.’ 

He fell inanimate in the gallery. It was the same with 
Grossetti. Andreoli alone remained conscious. After 
long efforts, he succeeded in reviving Zambecarri. 

'^'What news.J^ Whither are we going How is the 
wind.^ What time is it ?* 

“ * It is two o’clock.’ 

** * Where is the compass V 
* Upset !’ 

‘‘ ‘ Great God ! The lantern has gone out !' 

‘ It cannot burn in this rarefied air,’ said Zambecarri. 


i88 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


*^The moon had not risen, and the atmosphere was 
plunged in murky darkness. 

am cold, Andreoli. What shall I do ?* 

^‘They slowly descended through a layer of whitish 
clouds. 

‘*^Sh!’ said Andreoli. ‘Do you hear?* 

“‘What.^’ asked Zambecarri. 

“ ‘ A strange noise.’ 

"‘You are mistaken.* 

‘“No.’ 

‘‘ Consider these travellers, in the middle of the night, 
listening to that unaccountable noise ! Are they going to 
knock against a tower ? Are they about to be "precipitated 
on the roofs ? 

‘‘ ‘ Do you hear ? One would say it w^s the noisQ of the 
sea.’ 

‘“Impossible!’ 

" * It is the groaning of the waves V 

‘“It is true.* 

‘“Light! light!* 

‘‘After five fruitless attempts, Andreoli succeeded in 
obtaining light. It was three o’clock. 

‘‘The voice of violent waves was heard. They were 
almost touching the surface of the sea ! 

‘“We are lost!’ cried Zambecarri, seizing a large bag of 
sand. 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


189 


** * Help ! ’ cried Andreoli. 

** The car touched the water, and the waves came up to 
their breasts. 

Throw out the instruments, clothes, money!’ 

*‘The aeronauts completely stripped themselves. The 
balloon, relieved, rose with frightful rapidity. Zambecarri 
was taken with vomiting. Grossetti bled profusely. The 
unfortunate men could not speak, so short was their 
breathing. They were taken with cold, and they were soon 
crusted over with ice. The moon looked as red as blood. 

After traversing the high regions for a half-hour, the 
balloon again fell into the sea. It was four in the morning. 
They were half submerged in the water, and the balloon 
dragged them along, as if under sail, for several hours. 

“At daybreak they found themselves opposite Pesaro, 
four miles. from the coast. They were about to reach it, 
when a gale blew them back into the open sea. They were 
lost! The frightened boats fled at their approach. 
Happily, a more intelligent boatman accosted them, 
hoisted them on board, and they landed at Ferrada. 

“A frightful journey, was it not But Zambecarri was 
a brave and energetic man. Scarcely recovered from his 
sufferings, he resumed his ascensions. During one of them 
he struck against a tree ; his spirit-lamp was broken on his 
clothes ; he was enveloped in fire, his balloon began to 
catch the flames, and he came down half consumed. 


IQO A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 

last, on the 2ist of September, 1812, he made 
another ascension at Boulogne. The bjilloon clung to a 
tree, and his lamp again set it on fire. Zambecarri fell, 
* and was killed ! And in presence of these facts, we would 
still hesitate ! No. The higher we go, the more glorious 
will be our death !” 

The balloon being now entirely relieved of ballast and 
of all it contained, we were carried to an enormous height. 
It vibrated in the atmosphere. The least noise resounded 
in the vaults of heaven. Our globe, the only object which 
caught my view in immensity, seemed ready to be 
annihilated, and above us the depths of the starry skies 
were lost in thick darkness. 

I saw my companion rise up before me. 

“The hour is come !” he said. “We must die. We are 
rejected of men. They despise us. Let us crush them !” 

“ Mercy ! ” I cried. 

“ Let us cut these cords ! Let this car be abandoned in 
space. The attractive force will change its direction, and 
we shall approach the sun !” 

Despair galvanized me. I threw myself upon the 
madman, we struggled together, and a terrible conflict 
took place. But I was thrown down, and while he held 
me under his knee, the madman was cutting the cords of 
the car. 


“ One ! ” he cried. 



“ ZAMBECARRI FELL, AND WAS KILLED 


Page 190. 





t 




THE MADMAN DISAPPEARED IN SPACE. 


Page 191. 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


I9I 


^^MyGod!^’ 

‘^Two! Three!” 

I made a superhuman effort, rose up, and violently 
repulsed the madman. 

‘‘Four!” 

The car fell, but I instinctively clung to the cords and 
hoisted myself into the meshes of the netting. 

The madman disappeared in space ! 

The balloon was raised to an immeasurable height. A 
horrible cracking was heard. The gas, too much dilated, 
had burst the balloon. I shut my eyes — 

Some instants after, a damp warmth revived me. I was 
in the midst of clouds on fire. The balloon turned over 
with dizzy velocity. Taken by the wind, it made a hundred 
leagues an hour in a horizontal course, the lightning flashing 
around it, • 

Meanwhile my fall was not a very rapid one. When I 
opened my eyes, I saw the country. I was two miles from 
the sea, and the tempest was driving me violently towards 
it, when an abrupt shock forced me to loosen my hold. 
My hands opened, a cord slipped swiftly between my 
fingers, and I found myself on the solid earth ! 

It was the cord of the anchor, which, sweeping along the 
surface of the ground, was caught in a crevice; and my 
balloon, unballasted for the last time, careered off to lose 
itself beyond the sea. 


192 


A DRAMA IN THE AIR. 


When I came to myself, I was in bed in a peasant’s 
cottage, at Harderwick, a village of La Gueldre. fifteen 
leagues from Amsterdam, on the shores of the 2uyder-Zee. 

A miracle had saved my life, but my voyage had been a 
series of imprudences, committed by a lunatic, and 1 had 
not been able to prevent them. 

May this terrible narrative, though instructing those who 
read it, not discourage the explorers of the air. 



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“ MONSIEUR THE CURE,” SAID HE, “STOP A MOMENT, IF YOU PLEASE/ 

Page 193 




A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE BLACK FLAG. 

The cur^ of the ancient church of Dunkirk rose at five 
o’clock on the I2th of May, i8 — , to perform, according 
to his custom, low mass for the benefit of a few pious 
sinners. 

Attired in his priestly robes, he was about to proceed to 
the altar, when a man entered the sacristy, at once joyous 
and frightened. He was a sailor of some sixty years, but 
still vigorous and sturdy, with an open, honest counte- 
nance. 

''Monsieur the cure,” said he, “stop moment, if you 
please.” 

“ What do you want so early in the morning, j ean Corn- 
butte?” asked the cur6. 


O 


194 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


“ What do I want ? Why, to embrace you in my arms, 
r faith!" 

“Well, after the mass at which you are going to be 
present — " 

“The mass?" returned the old sailor, laughing. “Do 
you think you are going to say your mass now, and that I 
will let you do so ?" 

“And why should I not say my mass ?" asked the cure. 
“ Explain yourself. The third bell has sounded — " 

“Whether it has or not," replied Jean Cornbutte, “it 
will sound many more times to-day, monsieur the cur^ for 
you have promised me that you will bless, with your own 
hands, the marriage of my son Louis and my niece 
Marie!" 

“ He has arrived, then," said the curd joyfully. 

“ It is nearly the same thing," replied Cornbutte, rubbing 
his hands. “ Our brig was signalled from the look out at 
sunrise, — our brig, which you yourself christened by the 
good name of the ‘ Jeune-Hardie ’ !" 

“ I congratulate you with all my heart, Cornbutte,” 
said the curd, taking off his chasuble and stole. “ I 
remember our agreement. The vicar will take my place, 
and I will put myself at your disposal against your dear 
son’s arrival." 

“ And I promise you that he will not make you fast 
long," replied the sailor. “You have already published 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


195 


the banns, and you will only have to absolve him from the 
sins he may have committed between sky and water, in 
the Northern Ocean. I had a good idea, that the marriage 
should be celebrated the very day he arrived, and that my 
son Louis should leave his ship to repair at once to the 
church.” 

Go, then, and arrange everything, Cornbutte.” 

“ I fly, monsieur the cure. Good morning !” 

The sailor hastened with rapid steps to his house, which 
stood on the quay, whence could be seen the Northern 
Ocean, of which he seemed so proud. 

Jean Cornbutte had amassed a comfortable sum at his 
calling. After having long commanded the vessels of a 
rich shipowner of Havre, he had settled down in his 
native town, where he had caused the brig “ Jeune-Hardie” 
to be constructed at his own expense. Several successful 
voyages had been made in the North, and the ship always 
found a good sale for its cargoes of wood, iron, and tar. 
Jean Cornbutte then gave up the command of her to his 
son Louis, a fine sailor of thirty, who, according to all the 
coasting captains, was the boldest mariner in Dunkirk. 

Louis Cornbutte had gone away deeply attached to 
Marie, his father’s niece, who found the time of his absence 
very long and weary. Marie was scarcely twenty. She 
was a pretty Flemish girl, with some Dutch blood in her 
veins. Her mother, when she was dying, had confided her 


O 2 


196 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


to her brother, Jean Cornbutte. The brave old sailor 
loved her as a daughter, and saw in her proposed union 
with Louis a source of real and durable happiness. 

The arrival of the ship, already signalled off the coast, 
completed an important business operation, from which 
Jean Cornbutte expected large profits. The ‘^Jeune- 
Hardie,” which had left three months before, came last 
from Bodoe, on the west coast of Norway, and had made a 
quick voyage thence. 

On returning home, Jean Cornbutte found the whole 
house alive. Marie, with radiant face, had assumed her 
wedding-dress. 

‘*I hope the ship will not arrive before we are ready!” 
she said. 

“Hurry, little one,” replied Jean Cornbutte, “for the 
wind is north, and she sails well, you know, when she goes 
freely.” 

“Have our friends been told, uncle asked Marie. 

“ They have.” 

“The notary, and the cure.?” 

“ Rest easy. You alone are keeping us waiting.” 

At this moment Clerbaut, an old crony, came in. 

“Well, old Cornbutte,” cried he, “here’s luck! Your 
ship has arrived at the very moment that the government 
has decided to contract for a large quantity of wood for the 
navy !” 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


197 


What is that to me ?” replied Jean Cornbutte. What 
care I for the government ?” 

“You see, Monsieur Clerbaut,” said Marie, “one thing 
only absorbs us, — Louis’s return.’^ 

“I don’t dispute that,” replied Clerbaut. “But— in 

short — this purchase of wood — ” 

“And you shall be at the wedding,” replied Jean 
Cornbutte, interrupting the merchant, and shaking his hand 
as if he would crush it. 

“ This purchase of wood—” 

“And with all our friends, landsmen and seamen, Clerbaut. 
I have already informed everybody, and I shall invite the 
whole crew of the ship,” 

“And shall we go and await them on the pier.?” asked 
Marie. 

“Indeed we will,” replied Jean Cornbutte. “We will 
defile, two by two, with the violins at the head.” 

Jean Cornbutte’s invited guests soon arrived. Though 
it was very early, not a single one failed to appear. All 
congratulated the honest old sailor whom they loved. 
Meanwhile Marie, kneeling down, changed her prayers to 
God into thanksgivings. She soon returned, lovely and 
decked out, to the company ; and all the women kissed 
her on the cheek, while the men vigorously grasped her 
by the hand. Then Jean Cornbutte gave the signal of 
departure. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


198 


It was a curious sight to see this joyous group taking its 
way, at sunrise, towards the sea. The news of the ship’s 
arrival had spread through the port, and many heads, in 
nightcaps, appeared at the windows and at the half- opened 
doors. Sincere compliments and pleasant nods came from 
every side. 

The party reached the pier in the midst of a concert of 
praise and blessings. The weather was magnificent, and 
the sun seemed to take part in the festivity. A fresh 
north wind made the waves foam ; and some fishing- 
smacks, their sails trimmed for leaving port, streaked the 
sea with their rapid wakes between the breakwaters. 

The two piers of Dunkirk stretch far out into the sea. 
The wedding-party occupied the whole width of the 
northern pier, and soon reached a small house situated at 
its extremity, inhabited by the harbour-master. The wind 
freshened, and the “ Jeune-Hardie ” ran swiftly under her 
topsails, mizzen, brigantine, gallant, and royal. There was 
evidently rejoicing on board as well as on land. Jean 
Cornbutte, spy-glass in hand, responded merrily to the 
questions of his friends. 

“See my ship !” he cried ; “clean and steady as if she 
had been rigged at Dunkirk ! Not a bit of damage done, 
— not a rope wanting!” 

“Do you see your son, the captain asked one. 

“No, not yet. Why, he’s at his business!” 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


199 


“ Why doesn’t he run up his flag ?” asked Clerbaut. 

I scarcely know, old friend. He has a reason for it, no 
doubt.” 

“ Your spy -glass, uncle said Marie, taking it from him, 
** I want to be the first to see him.” 

But he is my son, mademoiselle !” 

“He has been your son for thirty years,” answered the 
young girl, laughing, “ and he has only been my betrothed 
for two ! ” 

The “ Jeune-Hardie ” was now entirely visible. Already 
the crew were preparing to cast anchor. The upper sails 
had been reefed. The sailors who were among the rigging 
might be recognized. But neither Marie nor Jean Corn- 
butte had yet been able to wave their hands at the captain 
of the ship. 

“Faith! there’s the first mate, Andr^ Vasling,” cried 
Clerbaut. 

“And there’s Fidele Misonne, the carpenter,” said 
another. 

“And our friend Penellan,” said a third, saluting the 
sailor named. 

The “ Jeune-Hardie” was only three cables’ lengths from 
the shore, when a black flag ascended to the gaff of the 
brigantine. There was mourning on board ! 

A shudder of terror seized the party and the heart of 
the young girl. 


200 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


The ship sadly swayed into port, and an icy silence 
reigned on its deck. Soon it had passed the end of the 
pier. Marie, Jean Cornbutte, and all their friends hurried 
towards the quay at which she was to anchor, and in a 
moment found themselves on board. 

‘‘My son!” said Jean Cornbutte, who could only articu- 
late these words. 

The sailors, with uncovered heads, pointed to the mourn- 
ing flag. 

Marie uttered a cry of anguish, and fell into old Corn- 
butte’s arms. 

Andrd Vasling had brought back the “ Jeune-Hardie,” 
but Louis Cornbutte, Marie’s betrothed, was not on board. 


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ANDRE VASLING, THE MATE, APPRISKD JEAN CORNBUTTE OF THE 


DREADFUL EVENT 


Page 201 




A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


201 


CHAPTER II. 

JEAN CORNBUTTE’S PROJECT.* 

As soon as the young girl, confided to the care of the 
sympathizing friends, had left the ship, Andre Vasling, the 
mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of the dreadful event which 
had deprived him of his son, narrated in the ship’s journal 
as follows : — 

“ At the height of the Maelstrom, on the 26th of April, the ship, putting for 
the cape, by reason of bad weather and south-west winds, perceived signals of 
distress made by a schooner to the leeward. This schooner, deprived of its 
mizzen-mast, was running towards the whirlpool, under bare poles. Captain 
Louis Cornbutte, seeing that this vessel was hastening into imminent danger, 
resolved to go on board her. Despite the remonstrances of his crew, he had 
the long-boat lowered into the sea, and got into it, with the sailor Courtois 
and the helmsman Pierre Nouquet. The crew watched them until they 
disappeared in the fog. Night came on. The sea became more and more 
boisterous. The “ Jeune-Hardie,” drawn by the currents in those parts, was 
in danger of being engulfed by the Maelstrom. She was obliged to fly before 
the wind. For several days she hovered near the place of the disaster, but in 
vain. The long-boat, the schooner, Captain Louis, and the two sailors did 
not reappear. Andre Vasling then called the crew together, took command of 
the ship, and set sail for Dunkirk,” 


202 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


After reading this dry narrative, Jean Cornbutte wept 
for a long time ; and if he had any consolation, it was the 
thought that his son had died in attempting to save his 
fellow-men. Then the poor father left the ship, the sight 
of which made him wretched, and returned to his desolate 
home. 

The sad news soon spread throughout Dunkirk. The 
many friends of the old sailor came to bring him their 
cordial and sincere sympathy. Then the sailors of the 
“ Jeune-Hardie ” gave a more particular account of the 
event, and Andre Vasling told Marie, at great length, of 
the devotion of her betrothed to the last. 

When he ceased weeping, Jean Cornbutte thought over 
the matter, and the next day after the ship’s arrival, when 
Andre came to see him, said, — 

“Are you very sure, Andr^ that my son has perished ?” 

“Alas, yes, JVlonsieur Jean,” replied the mate. 

“And you made all possible search for him 

“All, Monsieur Cornbutte. But it is unhappily but too 
certain that he and the two sailors were sucked down in 
the whirlpool of the Maelstrom.” 

“ W^ould you like, Andr^, to keep the second command 
of the ship .?” 

“That will depend upon the captain. Monsieur Corn- 
butte.” 

“I shall be the captain,” replied the old sailor. “I am 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


203 


going to discharge the cargo with all speed, make up my 
crew, and sail in search of my son.” 

*‘Your son is dead!” said Andre obstinately. 

*‘It is possible, Andr^” replied Jean Cornbutte sharply, 
“but it is also possible that he saved himself. I am 
going to rummage all the ports of Norway whither he 
might have been driven, and when I am fully convinced 
that I shall never see him again, I will return here to 
die!” 

Andre Vasling, seeing that this decision was irrevocable, 
did not insist further, but went away. 

Jean Cornbutte at once apprised his niece of his 
intention, and he saw a few rays of hope glisten across her 
tears. It had not seemed to the young girl that her 
lover’s death might be doubtful ; but scarcely had this new 
hope entered her heart, than she embraced it without 
reserve. 

The old sailor determined that the “ Jeune- Hardie ” 
should put to sea without delay. The solidly built ship 
had no need of repairs. Jean Cornbutte gave his sailors 
notice that if they wished to re-embark, no change in the 
crew would be made. He alone replaced his son in 
the command of the brig. None of the comrades of Louis 
Cornbutte failed to respond to his call, and there were 
hardy tars among them, — Alaine Turquiette, Fidele 
Misonne the carpenter, Penellan the Breton, who replaced 


204 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


Pierre Nouquet as helmsman, and Gradlin, Aupic, and 
Gervique, courageous and well-tried mariners. 

Jean Cornbutte again offered Andre Vasling his old 
rank on board. The first mate was an able officer, who 
had proved his skill in bringing the Jeune-Hardie ” into 
port. Yet, from what motive could not be told, Andre 
made some difficulties and asked time for reflection. 

“As you will, Andr^ Vasling,” replied Cornbutte. 
“ Only remember that if you accept, you will be welcome 
among us.” 

Jean had a devoted sailor in Penellan the Breton, who 
had long been his fellow- voyager. In times gone by, little 
Marie was wont to pass the long winter evenings in the 
helmsman’s arms, when he was on shore. He felt a 
fatherly friendship for her, and she had for him an 
affection quite filial. Penellan hastened the fitting out of 
the ship with all his energy, all the more because, accord- 
ing to his opinion, Andr 6 Vasling had not perhaps made 
every effort possible to find the castaways, although he 
was excusable from the responsibility which weighed upon 
him as captain. 

Within a week the “ Jeune-Hardie ” was ready to put to 
sea. Instead of merchandise, she was completely provided 
with salt meats, biscuits, barrels of flour, potatoes, pork, 
wine, brandy, coffee, tea, and tobacco. 

The departure was fixed for the 22nd of May. On the 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


205 


evening before, Andre Vasling, who had not yet given his 
answer to Jean Cornbutte, came to his house. He was 
still undecided, and did not know which course to take. 

Jean was not at home, though the house-door was open. 
Andrd went into the passage, next to Marie’s chamber, 
where the sound of an animated conversation struck his 
ear. He listened attentively, and recognized the voices of 
Penellan and Marie. 

The discussion had no do^bt been going on for some 
time, for the young girl seemed to be stoutly opposing 
what the Breton sailor said. 

'^How old is my uncle Cornbutte?” said Marie. 

Something about sixty years,” replied Penellan. 

Well, is he not going to brave danger to find his son ?” 

'' Our captain is still a sturdy man,” returned the sailor. 

He has a body of oak and muscles as hard as a spare 
spar. So I am not afraid to have him go to sea again !’* 

^'My good Penellan,” said Marie, “one is strong when 
one loves ! Besides, I have full confidence in the aid of 
Heaven. You understand me, and will help me.” 

“No!” said Penellan. “ It is impossible, Marie. Who 
knows whither we shall drift, or what we must suffer? 
How many vigorous men have I seen lose their lives in 
these seas I ” 

“Penellan,” returned the young girl, “if you refuse me, 
I shall believe that you do not love me any longer.” 


206 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


Andrd Vasling understood the young girl’s resolution. 
He reflected a moment, and his course was determined on. 

‘^Jean Cornbutte,” said he, advancing towards the old 
sailor, who now entered, I will go with you. The cause 
of my hesitation has disappeared, and you may count 
upon my devotion.” 

*‘I have never doubted you, Andrd Vasling,” replied 
Jean Cornbutte, grasping him by the hand. “Marie, my 
child !” he added, calling in n^loud vpice. 

Marie and Penellan made their appearance. 

“We shall set sail to-morrow at daybreak, with the out- 
going tide,” said Jean. “My poor Marie, this is the last 
evening that we shall pass together. 

“ Uncle !” cried Marie, throwing herself into his arms. 

“ Marie, by the help of God, I will bring your lover back 
to you !” 

“Yes, we will find Louis,” added Andrd Vasling. 

“You are going with us, then asked Penellan quickly. 

“Yes, Penellan, Andre Vasling is to be my first mate,” 
answered Jean. 

“Oh, oh !” ejaculated the Breton, in a singular tone. 

“And his advice will be useful to us, for he is able and 
enterprising. 

“And yourself, captain,” said Andrd “You will set us 
all a good example, for you have still as much vigour as 
experience.” 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


207 


‘‘Well, my friends, good-bye till to-morrow. Go on 
board and make the final arrangements. Good-bye, 
Andr^ ; good-bye, Penellan.” 

The mate and the sailor went out together, and Jean 
and Marie remained alone. Many bitter tears were shed 
during that sad evening. Jean Cornbutte, seeing Marie so 
wretched, resolved to spare her the pain of separation by 
leaving the house on the morrow without her knowledge. 
So he gave her a last kiss that evening, and at three 
o’clock next morning was up and away. 

The departure of the brig had attracted all the old 
sailor’s friends to the pier. The cur^, who was to have 
blessed Marie’s union with Louis, came to give a last 
benediction on the ship. Rough grasps of the hand were 
silently exchanged, and Jean went on board. 

The crew were all there. Andre Vasling gave the last 
orders. The sails were spread, and the brig rapidly passed 
out under a stiff north-west breeze, whilst the cure, 
upright in the midst of the kneeling spectators, committed 
the vessel to the hands of God 

Whither goes this ship .? She follows the perilous route 
upon which so many castaways have been lost ! She has 
no certain destination. She must expect every peril, and 
be able to brave them without hesitating. God alone 
knows where it will be her fate to anchor. May God 
guide her I 


208 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER III. 

A RAY OF HOPE. 

i 

At that time of the year the season was favourable, and i 
the crew might hope promptly to reach the scene of the v 
shipwreck. I 

Jean Cornbutte’s plan was naturally traced out. HeJ 
counted on stopping at the Feroe Islands, whither the ; 
north wind might have carried the castaways ; then, if he 1 
was convinced that they had not been received in any of] 
the ports of that locality, he would continue his search! 
beyond the Northern Ocean, ransack the whole western! 
coast of Norway as far as Bodoe, the place nearest the 
scene of the shipwreck ; and, if necessary, farther still. j 
Andre Vasling thought, contrary to the captain’s 
opinion, that the coast of Iceland should be explored ; but 
Penellan observed that, at the time of the catastrophe, the* 
gale came from the west ; which, while it gave hope that 
the unfortunates had not been forced towards the gulf of 


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A S JF 1 VOICE SAID IN HIS EAR, HAVE GOOD COURAGE, UNCLE. 

Page 209. 


\ 


I . 


\ 




A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


209 


the Maelstrom, gave ground for supposing that they might 
have been thrown on the Norwegian coast. 

It was determined, then, that this coast should be 
followed as closely as possible, so as to recognize any 
traces of them that might appear. 

The day after sailing, Jean Cornbutte, intent upon a 
map, was absorbed in reflection, when a small hand 
touched his shoulder, and a soft voice said in his 
ear, — 

Have good courage, uncle.” 

He turned, and was stupefied. Marie embraced him. 

Marie, my daughter, on board ! ” he cried. 

The wife may well go in search of her husband, when 
the father embarks to save his child.” 

“ Unhappy Marie ! How wilt thou support our fatigues! 
Dost thou know that thy presence may be injurious to our 
search } ” 

'' No, uncle, for I am strong.” 

“ Who knows whither we shall be forced to go, Marie > 
Look at this map. We are approaching places dangerous 
even for us sailors, hardened though we are to the 
difficulties of the sea. And thou, frail child V* 

^‘But, uncle, I come from a family of sailors. I am 
used to stories of combats and tempests. I am with you 
and my old friend Penellan I” 

Penellan ! It was he who concealed you on board r’ 

P 


210 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


“Yes, uncle; but only when he saw that I was deter- 
mined to come without his help.*' 

“Penellan!” cried Jean. 

Penellan entered. 

“It is not possible to undo what you have done, 
Penellan ; but remember that you are responsible for 
Marie’s life.” 

“Rest easy, captain,” replied Penellan. “The little one 
has force and courage, and will be our guardian angel. 
And then, captain, you know it is my theory, that all in 
this world happens for the best.” 

The young girl was installed in a cabin, which the 
sailors soon got ready for her, and which they made as 
comfortable as possible. 

A week later the “ Jeune-Hardie ” stopped at the Feroe 
Islands, but the most minute search was fruitless. No 
wreck, or fragments of a ship had come upon these coasts. 
Even the news of the event was quite unknown. The 
brig resumed its voyage, after a stay of ten days, about the 
loth of June. The sea was calm, and the winds were 
favourable. The ship sped rapidly towards the Norwegian 
coast, which it explored without better result. 

Jean Cornbutte determined to proceed to Bodoe. Per- 
haps he would there learn the name of the shipwrecked 
schooner io succour which Louis and the sailors had 
.sacrificed themselves. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


2 II 


On the 30th of June the brig cast anchor in that port. 

The authorities of Bodoe gave Jean Cornbutte a bottle 
found on the coast, which contained a document bearing 
these words : — 

“This 26th April, on board the ‘Frooem,’ after being accosted by the 
long-boat of the ‘ Jeune-Hardie,’ we were drawn by the currents towards the 
ice. God have pity on us 

Jean Cornbutte’s first impulse was to thank Heaven. 
He thought himself on his son’s track. The “Frooern” 
was a Norwegian sloop of which there had been no news, 
but which had evidently been drawn northward. 

Not a day was to be lost. The “ Jeune-Hardie ” was at 
once put in condition to brave the perils of the polar seas. 
Fiddle Misonne, the carpenter, carefully examined her, 
and assured himself that her solid construction might 
resist the shock of the ice-masses. 

Penellan, who had already engaged in whale-fishing in 
the arctic waters, took care that woollen and fur coverings, 
many sealskin moccassins, and wood for the making of 
sledges with which to cross the ice-fields were put on 
board. The amount of provisions was increased, and 
spirits and charcoal were added ; for it might be that they 
would have to winter at some point on the Greenland 
coast. They also procured, with much difficulty and at a 
high price, a quantity of lemons, for preventing or curing 
the scurvy, that terrible disease which decimates crews in 


P 2 


212 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


the icy regions. The ship’s hold was filled with salt meat, 
biscuits, brandy, &c., as the steward’s room no longer | 
sufficed. They provided themselves, moreover, with a . 
large quantity of “pemmican,” an Indian preparation j 
which concentrates a great deal of nutrition within a small j 
volume. ; 

By order of the captain, some saws were put on board 
for cutting the ice-fields, as well as picks and wedges for 4 
separating them. The captain determined to procure some | 
dogs for drawing the sledges on the Greenland coast. ' 

The whole crew was engaged in these preparations, and ' 
displayed great activity. The sailors Aupic, Gervique, 
and Gradlin zealously obeyed Penellan’s orders ; and he 
admonished them not to accustom themselves to woollen ; 
garments, though the temperature in this latitude, situated ^ 
just beyond the polar circle, was very low. | 

Penellan, though he said nothing, narrowly watched 
every action of Andre Vasling. This man was Dutch by 
birth, came from no one knew whither, but was at least a 
good sailor, having made two voyages on board the 
“ Jeune-Hardie.” Penellan would not as yet accuse him 
of anything, unless it was that he kept near Marie too 
Constantly, but he did not let him out of his sight. 

'Thanks to the energy of the crew, the brig was equipped 
by the i6th of July, a fortnight after its arrival at Bodoe. 

It was then the favourable season for attempting explo- 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


213 


rations in the Arctic Seas. The thaw had been going on 
for two months, and the search might be carried farther 
north. The “ Jeune-Hardie” set sail, and directed her 
way towards Cape Brewster, on the eastern coast of Green- 
land, near the 70th degree of latitude. 


214 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


( 


CHAPTER IV. 

IN THE PASSES. 

About the 23rd of July a reflection, raised above the sea, 
announced the presence of the first icebergs, which, 
emerging from Davis’ Straits, advanced into the ocean. 
From this moment a vigilant watch was ordered to the 
look-out men, for it was important not to come into 
collision with these enormous masses. 

The crew was divided into two watches. The first was 
composed of Fidele Misonne, Gradlin, and Gervique ; and 
the second of Andre Vasling; Aupic, and Penellan. These 
watches were to last only two hours, for in those cold 
regions a man’s strength is diminished one-half. Though 
the “ Jeune-Hardie ” was not yet beyond the 63rd degree 
of latitude, the thermometer already stood at nine degrees 
centigrade below zero. 

Rain and snow pften fell abundantly. On fair days, 
when the wind was not too violent, Marie remained on 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


215 


deck, and her eyes became accustomed to the uncouth 
scenes of the Polar Seas. 

On the 1st of August she was promenading aft, and 
talking with her uncle, Penellan, and Andre Vasling. 
The ship was then entering a channel three miles wide, 
across which broken masses of ice were rapidly descending 
southwards. 

“When shall we see land asked the young girl. 

“In three or four days at the latest,” replied Jean 
Cornbutte. 

“But shall we find there fresh traces of my poor 
Louis * 

“ Perhaps so, my daughter ; but I fear that we are still 
far from the end of our voyage. It is to be feared that the 
* Frooern ’ was driven farther northward.” 

“ That may be,” added Andr6 Vasling, “ for the squall 
which separated us from the Norwegian boTat lasted three 
days, and in three days a ship makes good headway when 
it is no longer able to resist the wind.” 

“Permit me to tell you, Monsieur Vasling,” replied 
Penellan, “that that was in April, that the thaw had not 
then begun, and that therefore the ‘Frooern* must have 
been soon arrested by the ice.” 

“ And no doubt dashed into a thousand pieces,” said the 
mate, “ as her crew could not manage her.” 

“ But these ice-fields,” returned Penellan, “ gave her an 


2i6 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


easy means of reaching land, from which she could not 
have been far distant,” 

“ Let us hope so,” said Jean Cornbutte, interrupting the 
discussion, which was daily renewed between the mate and 
the helmsman. I think we shall see land before long.” 

“There it is!” cried Marie. “See those mountains!” 

“ No, my child,” replied her uncle. “ Those are moun- 
tains of ice, the first we have met with. They would 
shatter us like glass if we got entangled between them. 
Penellan and Vasling, overlook the men.” 

These floating masses, more than fifty of which now 
appeared at the horizon, came nearer and nearer to the 
brig. Penellan took the helm, and Jean Cornbutte, 
mounted on the gallant, indicated the route to take. 

Towards evening the brig was entirely surrounded by 
these moving rocks, the crushing force of which is irre- 
sistible. It was necessary, then, to cross this fleet of moun- 
tains,- for prudence prompted them to keep straight ahead. 
Another difficulty was added to these perils. The direction 
of the ship could not be accurately determined, as all the 
surrounding points constantly changed position, and thus 
failed to afford a fixed perspective, The darkness soon 
increased with the fog. Marie descended to her cabin, and 
the whole crew, by the captain’s orders, remained on deck. 
They were armed with long boat-poles, with iron spikes, to 
preserve the ship from collision with the ice. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


217 


The ship soon entered a strait so narrow that often the 
ends of her yards were grazed by the drifting mountains, 
and her booms seemed about to be driven in. They were 
even forced to trim the mainyard so as to touch the 
shrouds. Happily these precautions did not deprive the 
vessel of any of its speed, for the wind could only reach the 
upper sails, and these sufficed to Carry her forward rapidly. 
Thanks to her slender hull, she passed through these 
valleys, which were filled with whirlpools of rain, whilst 
the icebergs crushed against each other with sharp cracking 
and splitting. 

Jean Cornbutte returned to the deck. His eyes could 
not penetrate the surrounding darkness. It became neces- 
sary to furl the upper sails, for the ship threatened to 
ground, and if she did so she was lost. 

Cursed voyage ! ” growled Andre Vasling among the 
sailors, who, forward, were avoiding the most menacing 
ice-blocks with their boat-hooks. 

“ Truly, if we escape we shall owe a fine candle to Our 
Lady of the Ice!” replied Aupic. 

" Who knows how many floating mountains we have got 
to pass through yet added the mate. 

“ And who can guess what we shall find beyond them 
replied the sailor. 

“Don’t talk so much, prattler,” said Gervique, “and 
look out on your side. When we have got by them. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


218 


it’ll be time to grumble. Look out for your boat- 
hook !” 

At this moment an enormous block of ice, in the narrow 
strait through which the brig was passing, came rapidly 
down upon her, and it seemed impossible to avoid it, for it 
^barred the whole width of the channel, and the brig could 
not heave-to. 

“ Do you feel the tiller } ” asked Cornbutte of Penellan. 

“ No, captain. The ship does not answer the helm any 
longer.” 

“ Ohiy boys ! ” cried the captain to the crew ; don’t 
be afraid, and buttress your hooks against the gun- 
wale.” 

. The block was nearly sixty feet high, and if it threw 
itself upon the brig she would be crushed. There was an 
undefinable moment of suspense, and the crew retreated 
backward, abandoning their posts despite the captain’s 
orders. 

But at the instant when the block was not more than 
half a cable’s length from the “ Jeune-Hardie,” a dull 
sound was heard, and a veritable waterspout fell upon the 
bow of the vessel, which then rose on the back of an 
enormous billow. 

The sailors uttered a cry of terror ; but when they looked 
before them the block had disappeared, the passage was 
free, and beyond an immense plain of water, illumined by 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


219 


the rays of the declining sun, assured them of an easy 
navigation. 

All’s well!” cried Penellan. Let’s trim our topsails 
and mizzen 1” 

An incident very common in those parts had just oc- 
curred. When these masses are detached from one another 
in the thawing season, they float in a perfect equilibrium ; 
but on reaching the ocean, where the water is relatively 
warmer, they are speedily undermined at the base, which 
melts little by little, and which is also shaken by the shock 
of other ice-masses. A moment comes when the centre of 
gravity of these masses is displaced, and then they are 
completely overturned. Only, if this block had turned 
over two minutes later, it would have fallen on the brig 
and carried her down in its fall. 


220 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER V. 

LIVERPOOL ISLAND. 

The brig now sailed in a sea which was almost entirely 
open. At the horizon only, a whitish light, this time 
motionless, indicated the presence of fixed plains of 
ice. 

Jean Cornbutte now directed the Jeune-Hardie ” to- 
wards Cape Brewster. They were already approaching the 
regions where the temperature is excessively cold, for the 
sun’s rays, owing to their obliquity when they reach them, 
are very feeble. 

On the 3rd of August the brig confronted immoveable 
and united ice-masses. The passages were seldom more 
than a cable’s length in width, and the ship was forced to 
make many turnings, which sometimes placed her heading 
the wind. 

Penellan watched over Marie with paternal care, and, 
despite the cold, prevailed upon her to spend two or three 



ANDREI VASLING SHOWED HIMSELF MORE ATTENTIVE THAN EVER. 

Pa^e 221 


i 



I 



A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


221 


hours every day on deck, for exercise had become one of 
the indispensable conditions of health. 

Marie’s courage did not falter. She even comforted the 
sailors with her cheerful talk, and all of them became 
warmly attached to her. Andr6 Vasling showed himself 
more attentive than ever, and seized every occasion to be 
in her company ; but the young girl, with a sort of presen- 
timent, accepted his services with some coldness. It may 
be easily conjectured that Andre’s conversation referred 
I more to the future than to the present, and that he did not 
I conceal the slight probability there was of saving the cast- 
I aways. He was convinced that they were lost, and the 
young girl ought thenceforth to confide her existence to 
some one else. 

Marie had not as yet comprehended Andre’s designs, for, 
to his great disgust, he could never find an opportunity to 
talk long with her alone. Penellan had always an excuse 
for interfering, and destroying the effect of Andre’s words 
by the hopeful opinions he expressed. 

Marie, meanwhile, did not remain idle. Acting on the 
helmsman’s advice, she set to work on her winter garments ; 
for it was necessary that she should completely change her 
clothing. The cut of her dresses was not suitable for these 
cold latitudes. She made, therefore, a sort of furred pan- 
' taloons, the ends of which were lined with seal-skin ; and her 
narrow skirts came only to her knees, so as not to be in 


222 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


contact with the layers of snow with which the winter would 
cover the ice-fields. A fur mantle, fitting closely to the 
figure and supplied with a hood, protected the upper part 
of her body. 

In the intervals of their work, the sailors, too, prepared 
clothing with which to shelter themselves from the cold. 
They made a quantity of high seal-skin boots, with which 
to cross the snow during their explorations. They worked 
thus all the time that the navigation in the straits lasted. 

Andr6 Vasling, who was an excellent shot, several times 
brought down aquatic birds with his gun ; innumerable 
flocks of these were always careering about the ship. A 
kind of eider-duck provided the crew with very palatable 
food, which relieved the monotony of the salt meat. 

At last the brig, after many turnings, came in sight of 
Cape Brewster. A long-boat was put to sea. Jean Corn- 
butte and Penellan reached the coast, which was entirely 
deserted. 

The ship at once directed its course towards Liverpool 
Island, discovered in 1821 by Captain Scoresby, and the 
crew gave a hearty cheer when they saw the natives 
running along the shore. Communication was speedily 
established with them, thanks to Penellan’s knowledge of 
a few words of their language, and some phrases which 
V,ie natives themselves had learnt of the whalers who 
frequented those parts. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


223 


These Greenlanders were small and squat ; they were not 
more than four feet ten inches high ; they had red, round 
faces, and low foreheads ; their hair, flat and black, fell over 
their shoulders ; their teeth were decayed, and they seemed 
to be affected by the sort of leprosy which is peculiar to 
ichthyophagous tribes. 

In exchange for pieces of iron and brass, of which they 
are extremely covetous, these poor creatures brought bear 
furs, the skins of sea-calves, sea-dogs, sea-wolves, and all 
the animals generally known as seals. Jean Cornbutte ob- 
tained these at a low price, and they were certain to become 
most useful. 

The captain then made the natives understand that he 
was in search of a shipwrecked vessel, and asked them if 
they had heard of it. One of them immediately drew some- 
thing like a ship on the snow, and indicated that a vessel of 
that sort had been carried northward three months before : 
he also managed to make it understood that the thaw and 
breaking up of the ice-fields had prevented the Greenlanders 
from going in search of it ; and, indeed, their very light 
canoes, which they managed with paddles, could not go to 
sea at that time. 

This news, though meagre, restored hope to the hearts of 
the sailors, and Jean Cornbutte had no difficulty in per- 
suading them to advance farther in the polar seas. 

Before quitting Liverpool Island, the captain purchased 


224 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


a pack of six Esquimaux dogs, which were soon acclimatised 
on board. The ship weighed anchor on the morning of the 
1 0th of August, and entered the northern straits under a 
brisk wind. 

The longest days of the year had now arrived ; that is, 
the sun, in these high latitudes, did not set, and reached the 
highest point of the spirals which it described above the 
horizon. 

This total absence of night was not, however, very appa- ^ 
rent, for the fog, rain, and snow sometimes enveloped the 
ship in real darkness. 

Jean Cornbutte, who was resolved to advance as far as 
possible, began to take measures of health. The space 
between decks was securely enclosed, and every morning 
care was taken to ventilate it with fresh air. The stoves 
were installed, and the pipes so disposed as to yield as much 
heat as possible. The sailors were advised to wear only 
one woollen shirt over their cotton shirts, and to hermeti- 
cally close their seal cloaks. The fires were not yet lighted, 
for it was important to reserve the wood and charcoal for 
the most intense cold. 

Warm beverages, such as coffee and tea, were regularly 
distributed to the sailors morning and evening; and as it 
was important to live on meat, they shot ducks and teal, 
which abounded in these parts. 

Jean Cornbutte also placed at the summit of the main- 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


225 

mast a crow’s nest,” a sort of cask staved in at one end, 
in which a look-out remained constantly, to observe the ice- 
fields. 

Two ’days after the brig had lost sight of Liverpool 
Island the temperature became suddenly colder under the 
influence of a dry wind. Some indications of winter were 
perceived. The ship had not a moment to lose, for soon 
the way would be entirely closed to her. She advanced 
across the straits, among which lay ice-plains thirty feet 
thick. 

On the morning of the 3rd of September the '^Jeune- 
Hardie” reached the head of Gael-Hamkes Bay. Land 
was then thirty miles to the leeward. It was the first time 
that the brig had stopped before a mass of ice which offered 
no outlet, and which was at least a mile wide. The saws 
must now be used to cut the ice. Penellan, Aupic, Gradlin, 
and Turquiette were chosen to work the saws, which had 
been carried outside the ship. The direction of the cutting 
was so determined that the current might carry off the 
pieces detached from the mass. The whole crew worked 
at this task for nearly twenty hours. They found it very 
painful to remain on the ice, and were often obliged to 
plunge into the water up to their middle ; their seal-skin 
garments protected them but imperfectly from the damp. 

Moreover all excessive toil in those high latitudes is soon 
followed by an overwhelming weariness ; for the breath soon 

Q 


226 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


fails, and the strongest are forced to rest at frequent 
intervals. 

At last the navigation became free, and the brig was 
towed beyond the mass which had so long obstructed her 


course. 



I 


I 


I 


ON THE I 2 TH SEPTEMBER THE SEA CONSISTED OF ONE SOLID PLAIN. 

Page 227. 



A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


227 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE QUAKING OF THE ICE. 

For several days the Jeune-Hardie” struggled against 
formidable obstacles. The crew were almost all the time 
at work with the saws, and often powder had to be used 
'to blow up the enormous blocks of ice which closed the 
way. 

On the 1 2th of September the sea consisted of one solid 
plain, without outlet or passage, surrounding the vessel on 
all sides, so that she could neither advance nor retreat. The 
temperature remained at an average of sixteen degrees 
below zero. The winter season had come on, with its 
sufierings and dangers. 

The Jeune-Hardie ” was then near the 21st degree 
of longitude west and the 76th degree of latitude north, 
at the entrance of Gad-Hamkes Bay. 

Jean Cornbutte made his preliminary preparations for 
wintering. He first searched for a creek whose position 

Q 2 


228 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


would shelter the ship from the wind and breaking up of 
the ice. Land, which was probably thirty miles west, 
could alone offer him secure shelter, and he resolved to 
attempt to reach it. 

He set out on the 12th of September, accompanied by 
Andre Vasling, Penellan, and the two sailors Gradlin and 
Turquiette. Each man carried provisions for two days, for 
it was not likely that their expedition would occupy a 
longer time, and they were supplied with skins on which 
to sleep. 

Snow had fallen in great abundance and was not yet 
frozen over ; and this delayed them seriously. They often 
sank to their waists, and could only advance very cautiously, 
for fear of falling into crevices. Penellan, who walked in 
front, carefully sounded each depression with his iron- 
pointed staff. 

About five in the evening the fog began to thicken, and 
the little band were forced to stop. Penellan looked about 
for an iceberg which might shelter them from the wind, 
and after refreshing themselves, with regrets that they had 
no warm drink, they spread their skins on the snow, 
wrapped themselves up, lay close to each other, and soon 
dropped asleep from sheer fatigue. 

The next morning Jean Cornbutte and his companions 
were buried beneath a bed of snow more than a foot deep. 
Happily their skins, perfectly impermeable, had preserved ' 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


229 


them, and the snow itself had aided in retaining their heat, 
which it prevented from escaping. 

The captain gave the signal of departure, and about 
noon they at last descried the coast, which at first they 
could scarcely distinguish. High ledges of ice, cut per- 
pendicularly, rose on the shore ; their variegated summits, 
of all forms and shapes, reproduced on a large scale the 
phenomena of crystallization. Myriads of aquatic fowl 
flew about at the approach of the party, and the seals, 
lazily lying on the ice, plunged hurriedly into the depths. 

faith !” said Penellan, **we shall not want for either 
furs or game ! ” 

“ Those animals,” returned Cornbutte, '' give eveiy evi- 
dence of having been already visited by men ; for in places 
totally uninhabited they would not be so wild.” 

'‘None but Greenlanders frequent these parts,” said 
Andre Vasling. 

" I see no trace of their passage, however ; neither any 
encampm*ent nor the smallest hut,” said Penellan, who had 
climbed up a high peak. " O captain ! ” he continued, 
" come here ! I see a point of land which will shelter us 
splendidly from the north-east wind.” 

" Come along, boys !” said Jean Cornbutte. 

His companions followed him, and they soon rejoined 
Penellan. The sailor had said what was true. An elevated 
point of land jutted out like a promontory, and curving 


230 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


towards the coast, formed a little inlet of a mile in width at 
m.ost. Some moving ice-blocks, broken by this point, 
floated in the midst, and the sea, sheltered from the colder 
winds, was not yet entirely frozen over. 

This was an excellent spot for wintering, and it only 
remained to get the ship thither. Jean Cornbutte remarked 
that the neighbouring ice-field was very thick, and it 
seemed very difficult to cut a canal to bring the brig to its 
destination. Some other creek, then, must be found ; it 
was in vain that he explored northward. The coast 
remained steep and abrupt for a long distance, and beyond 
the point it was directly exposed to the attacks of the 
east-wind. The circumstance disconcerted the captain 
all the more because Andre Vasling used strong arguments 
to show how bad the situation was. Penellan, in this 
dilemma, found it difficult to convince himself that all was 
for the best. 

But one chance remained — to seek a shelter on the 
southern side of the coast. This was to return on their 
path, but hesitation was useless. The little band returned 
rapidly in the direction of the ship, as their provisions had 
begun to run short. Jean Cornbutte searched for some 
practicable passage, or at least some fissure by which a 
canal might be cut across the ice-fields, all along the route, 
but in vain. 

Towards evening the sailors came to the same place 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


231 


■where they had encamped over night. There had been no 
snow during the day, and they could recognize the imprint 
of their bodies on the ice. They again disposed themselves 
to sleep with their furs. 

Penellan, much disturbed by the bad success of the 
expedition, was sleeping restlessly, when, at a waking 
moment, his attention was attracted by a dull rumbling. 
He listened attentively, and the rumbling seemed so 
strange that he nudged Jean Cornbutte with his elbow. 

“ What is that } ” said the latter,, whose mind, according 
to a sailor’s habit, was awake as soon as his body. 

Listen, captain.” 

The nbise increased, with perceptible violence. 

It cannot be thunder, in so high a latitude,” said Corn- 
butte, rising. 

“I think we have come across some white bears,” replied 
Penellan. 

“ The devil ! We have not seen any yet.” 

Sooner or later, we must have expected a visit from 
them. Let us give them a good reception.” 

Penellan, armed with a gun, lightly crossed the ledge 
which sheltered them. The darkness was very dense ; he 
could discover nothing ; but a new incident soon showed 
him that the cause of the noise did not proceed from 
around them. 

Jean Cornbutte rejoined him, and they observed with 


232 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


terror that this rumbling, which awakened their com- 
panions, came from beneath them. 

A new kind of peril menaced them. To the noise, 
which resembled peals of thunder, was added a distinct 
undulating motion of the ice-field. Several of the party 
lost their balance and fell. 

‘^Attention ! ” cried Penellan. 

“ Yes !” some one responded. 

‘^Turquiette ! Gradlin ! where are you 

“Here I am!” responded Turquiette, shaking off the 
snow with which he was covered. 

“This way, Vasling,” cried Cornbutte to the mate. 
“And Gradlin 

“Present, captain. But we are lost!” shouted Gradlin, 
in fright. 

“ No !” said Penellan. “ Perhaps we are saved ! ” 

Hardly had he uttered these words when a frightful 
cracking noise was heard. The ice-field broke clear 
through, and the sailors were forced to cling to the block 
which was quivering just by them. Despite the helms- 
man’s words, they found themselves in a most perilous 
position, for an ice-quake had occurred. The ice masses 
had just “weighed anchor,” as the sailors say. The move- 
ment lasted nearly two minutes, and it was to be feared 
that the crevice would yawn at the very feet of the unhappy 
sailors. They anxiously awaited daylight in the midst of 



POSITION, FOR AN 


THEY FOUND TIIEMSKIAT'.S IN A MOST PEKIIX)US 

ICEQUAKK HAD OCCURRED. 


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A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


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continuous shocks, for they could not, without risk of 
death, move a step, and had to remain stretched out at full 
length to avoid being engulfed. 

As soon as it was daylight a very different aspect pre- 
sented itself to their eyes. The vast plain, a compact 
mass the evening before, was now separated in a thousand 
places, and the waves, raised by some submarine commo- 
tion, had broken the thick layer which sheltered them. 

The thought of his ship occurred to Jean Cornbutte’s ■ 
mind. 

My poor brig ! ” he cried. “It must have perished ! ” 

The deepest despair began to overcast the faces of his 
companions. The loss of the ship inevitably preceded 
their own deaths. 

“ Courage, friends,” said Penellan. “ Reflect that this 
night’s disaster has opened us a path across the ice, 
which will enable us to bring our ship to the bay for 
wintering ! And, stop ! I am not mistaken. There is the 
^ Jeune-Hardie,’ a mile nearer to us !” 
i All hurried forward, and so imprudently, that Turquiette 
I slipped into a fissure, and would have certainly perished, 

I' had not Jean Cornbutte seized him by his hood. He got 
off with a rather cold bath. 

The brig was indeed floating two nliles away. After 
infinite trouble, the little band reached her. She was in 
good condition ; but her rudder, which they had neglected 
to lift, had been broken by the ice. 


234 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

SETTLING FOR THE WINTER. 

Penellan was once more right ; all was for the best, and 
this ice- quake had opened a practicable channel for the 
ship to the bay. The sailors had only to make skilful use 
of the currents to conduct her thither. 

On the 19th of September the brig was at last moored 
in her bay for wintering, two cables’ lengths from the 
shore, securely anchored on a good bottom. The ice began 
the next day to form around her hull ; it soon became 
strong enough to bear a man’s weight, and they could 
establish a communication with land. 

The rigging, as is customary in arctic navigation, re- 
mained as it was ; the sails were carefully furled on the 
yards and covered with their casings, and the “crow’s- 
nest” remained in place, as much to enable them to make 
distant observations as to attract attention to the ship. 

The sun now scarcely rose above the horizon. Since 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


235 


the June solstice, the spirals which it had described 
descended lower and lower ; and it would soon disappear 
altogether. 

The crew hastened to make the necessary preparations. 
Penellan supervised the whole. The ice was soon thick 
around the ship, and it was to be feared that its pressure 
might become dangerous ; but Penellan waited until, by 
reason of the going and coming of the floating ice-masses 
and their adherence, it had reached a thickness of twenty 
feet ; he then had it cut around the hull, so that it united 
under the ship, the form of which it assumed ; thus enclosed 
in a mould, the brig had no longer to fear the pressure of 
the ice, which could make no movement. 

The sailors then elevated along the wales, to the height 
of the nettings, a snow wall five or six feet thick, which soon 
froze as hard as a rock. This envelope did not allow the 
interior heat to escape outside. A canvas tent, covered 
with skins and hermetically closed, was stretched over the 
whole length of the deck, and formed a sort of walk for the 
sailors. 

They also constructed on the ice a storehouse of snow, in 
which articles which embarrassed the ship were stowed 
away. The partitions of the cabins were taken down, so as 
to form a single vast apartment forward, as well as aft. 
This single room, besides, was more easy to warm, as the 
ice and damp found fewer corners in which to take refuge. 


23,6 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


It was also less difficult to ventilate it, by means of canvas 
funnels which opened without. 

Each sailor exerted great energy in these preparations, 
and about the 25th of September they were completed. 
Andre Vasling had not shown himself the least active in 
this task. He devoted himself with especial zeal to the 
young girl’s comfort, and if she, absorbed in thoughts of her 
poor Louis, did not perceive this, Jean Cornbutte did not 
fail soon to remark it. He spoke of it to Penellan ; he 
recalled several incidents which completely enlightened 
him regarding his mate’s intentions ; Andre Vasling loved 
Marie, and reckoned on asking her uncle for her hand, as 
soon as it was proved beyond doubt that the castaways 
were irrevocably lost ; they would return then to Dunkirk, 
and Andre Vasling would be well satisfied to wed a rich and 
pretty girl, who would then be the sole heiress of Jean 
Cornbutte. 

But Andrd, in his impatience, was often imprudent. He 
had several times declared that the search for the castaways 
was useless, when some new trace contradicted him, and 
enabled Penellan to exult over him. The mate, therefore, 
cordially detested the helmsman, who returned his dislike 
heartily. Penellan only feared that Andre might • sow 
seeds of dissension among the crew, and persuaded Jean 
Cornbutte to answer him evasively on the first occasion. 

When the preparations for the winter were completed, 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


237 


the captain took measures to preserve the health of the crew. 
Every morning the men were ordered to air their berths, 
and carefully clean the interior walls, to get rid of the night’s 
dampness. They received boiling tea or coffee, which are 
excellent cordials to use against the cold, morning and 
evening ; then they were divided into hunting-parties, who 
should procure as much fresh nourishment as possible for 
every day. 

Each one also took healthy exercise every day, so as not 
to expose himself without motion to the cold ; for in a 
temperature thirty degrees below zero, some part of the 
body might suddenly become frozen. In such cases friction 
of the snow was used, which alone could heal the affected 
part. 

Penellan also strongly advised cold ablutions every 
morning. It required some courage to plunge the hands 
and face in the snow, which had to be melted within. But 
Penellan bravely set the example, and Marie was not the 
last to imitate him. 

Jean Cornbutte did not forget to have readings and 
prayers, for it was needful that the hearts of his comrades 
should not give way to despair or weariness. Nothing is 
more dangerous in these desolate latitudes. 

The sky, always gloomy, filled the soul with sadness. A 
thick snow, lashed by violent winds, added to the horrors 
of their situation. The sun would soon altogether disap- 


238 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


pear. Had the clouds not gathered in masses above their 
heads, they might have enjoyed the moonlight, which was 
about to become really their sun during the long polar 
night ; but, with the west winds, the snow did not cease to 
fall. Every morning it was necessary to clear off the sides 
of the ship, and to cut a new stairway in the ice to enable 
them to reach the ice-field. They easily succeeded in 
doing this with snow-knives ; the steps once cut, a little 
water was thrown over them, and they at once hardened. 

Penellan had a hole cut in the ice, not far from the ship. 
Every day the new crust which formed over its top was 
broken, and the water which was drawn thence, from a 
certain depth, was less cold than that at the surface. 

All these preparations occupied about three weeks. It 
was then time to go forward with the search. The ship 
was imprisoned for six or seven months, and only the next 
thaw could open a new route across the ice. It was wise, 
then, to profit by this delay, and extend their explorations 
northward 



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MAP IN HAND, HE CLEARLY EXPLAINED THEIR SITUATION. 


Page 239, 




A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


239 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PLAN OF THE EXPLORATIONS. 

On the 9th of October, Jean Cornbutte held a council to 
settle the plan of his operations, to which, that there might 
be union, zeal, and courage on the part of every one, he 
admitted the whole crew. Map in hand, he clearly ex- 
plained their situation. 

The eastern coast of Greenland advances perpendicularly 
northward. The discoveries of the navigators have given 
the exact boundaries of those parts. In the extent of five 
hundred leagues, which separates Greenland from Spitz- 
bergen, no land has been found. An island (Shannon 
Island) lay a hundred miles north of Gael-Hamkes Bay, 
where the Jeune-Hardie” vvas wintering. 

If the Norwegian schooner, as was most probable, had 
been driven in this direction, supposing that she could not 
reach Shannon Island, it was here that Louis Cornbutte 
and his comrades must have sought for a winter asylum. 


24-0 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE, 


This opinion prevailed, despite Andrd Vasling’s opposi- 
tion ; and it was decided to direct the explorations on the 
side towards Shannon Island. 

Arrangements for this were at once begun. A sledge 
like that used by the Esquimaux had been procured pn the 
Norwegian coast. This was constructed of planks curved 
before and behind, and was made to slide over the snow 
and ice. It was twelve feet long and four wide, and could 
therefore carry provisions, if need were, for several weeks. 
Fidele Misonne soon put it in order, working upon it in 
the snow storehouse, whither his tools had been carried. 
For the first time a coal-stove was set up in this storehouse, 
without which all labour there would have been impossible. 
The pipe was carried out through one of the lateral walls, 
by a hole pierced in the snow ; but a grave inconvenience 
resulted from this, — for the heat of the stove, little by little, 
melted the snow where it came in contact with it ; and the 
opening visibly increased. Jean Cornbutte contrived to 
surround this part of the pipe with some metallic canvas, 
which is impermeable by heat. This succeeded com- 
pletely. 

While Misonne was at work upon the sledge, Penellan, 
aided by Marie, was preparing the clothing necessary for 
the expedition. Seal-skin boots they had, fortunately, in 
plenty. Jean Cornbutte and Andre Vasling occupied 
themselves with the provisions. They chose* a small barrel 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


241 


of spirits-of-wine for heating a portable chafing-dish ; re- 
serves of coffee and tea in ample quantity were packed ; a 
small box of biscuits, two hundred pounds of pemmican, 
and some gourjds of brandy completed the stock of viands. 
The guns would bring down some fresh game every day. 
A quantity of powder was divided between several bags ; 
the compass, sextant, and spy-glass were put carefully out 
of the way of injury. 

On the nth of October the sun no longer appeared 
above the horizon. They were obliged to keep a lighted 
lamp in the lodgings of the crew all the time. There was 
no time to lose ; the explorations must be begun. For 
this reason : in the month of January it would become so 
cold that it would be impossible to venture out without 
peril of life. For two months at least the crew would be 
condemned to the most complete imprisonment ; then 
the thaw would begin, and continue till the time when the 
ship should quit the ice. This thaw would, of course, pre- 
vent any explorations. On the other hand, if Louis Corn- 
butte and his comrades were still in existence, it was not 
probable that they would be able to resist the severities of 
the arctic winter. They must therefore be saved before- 
hand, or all hope would be lost. Andre Vasling knew all 
tliis better than any one. He therefore resolved to put 
every possible obstacle in the way of the expedition. 

The preparations for the journey were completed about 

R 


242 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


the 20th of October. It remained to select the men who 
should compose the party. The young girl could not be 
deprived of the protection of Jean Cornbutte or of Penellan ; 
neither of these could, on the other hand, be spared from 
the expedition. 

The question, then, was whether Marie could bear the 
fatigues of such a journey. She had already passed 
through rough experiences without seeming to suffer from 
them, for she was a sailor’s daughter, used from. infancy to 
the fatigues of the sea, and even Penellan was not dis- 
mayed to see her struggling in the midst of this severe 
climate, against the dangers of the polar seas. 

It was decided, therefore, after a long discussion, that she 
should go with them, and that a place should be reserved 
for her, at need, on the sledge, on which a. little wooden 
hut was constructed, closed in hermetically. As for Marie, 
she was delighted, for she dreaded to be left alone without 
her two protectors. 

The expedition was thus formed : Marie, Jean Cornbutte, 
Penellan, Andre Vasling, Aupic, and Fiddle Misonne were 
to go. Alaine Turquiette remained in charge of the brig, 
and Gervique and Gradlin stayed behind with him. New 
provisions of all kinds were carried ; for Jean Cornbutte, 
in order to carry the exploration as far as possible, had 
resolved to establish depots along the route, at each seven 
or eight days’ march. When the sledge was ready it was 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


243 


at once fitted up, and covered with a skin tent. The whole 
weighed some seven hundred pounds, which a pack of five 
dogs might easily carry over the ice. 

On the 22nd of October, as the captain had foretold, a 
sudden change took place in the temperature. The sky 
cleared, the stars emitted an extraordinary light, and the 
moon shone above the horizon, no longer to leave the 
heavens for a fortnight. The thermometer descended to 
twenty-five degrees below zero. 

The departure was fixed for the following day. 


244 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE HOUSE OF SNOW. 

On the 23rd of October, at eleven in the morning, in a fine 
moonlight, the caravan set out. Precautions were this 
time taken that the journey might be a long one, if neces- 
sary. Jean Cornbutte followed the coast, and ascended 
northward. The steps of the travellers made no impres- 
sion on the hard ice. Jean was forced to guide himself by 
points which he selected at a distance ; sometimes he fixed 
upon a hill bristling with peaks ; sometimes on a vast ice- 
berg which pressure had raised above the plain. 

At the first halt, after going fifteen miles, Penellan 
prepared to encamp. The tent was erected against an 
ice-block. Marie had not suffered seriously with the 
extreme cold, for luckily the breeze had subsided, and was 
much more bearable ; but the young girl had several times 
been obliged to descend from her sledge to avert numbness 
from impeding the circulation of her blood. Otherwise, 


THE CARAVAN SET OUT 








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A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


245 

her little hut, hung with skins, afforded her all the comfort 
possible under the circumstances. 

When night, or rather sleeping-time, came, the little hut 
was carried under the tent, where it served as a bed-room 
for Marie. The evening repast was composed of fresh 
meat, pemmican, and hot tea. Jean Cornbutte, to avert 
danger of the scurvy, distributed to each of the party a 
few drops of lemon-juice. Then all slept under God’s 
protection. 

After eight hours of repose, they got ready to resume 
their march. A substantial breakfast was provided to the 
men and the dogs ; then they set out. The ice, ex- 
ceedingly compact, enabled these animals to draw the 
sledge easily. The party sometimes found it difficult to 
keep up with them. 

But the sailors soon began to suffer one discomfort- that 
of being dazzled. Ophthalmia betrayed itself in Aupic 
and Misonne. The moon’s light, striking on these vast 
white plains, burnt the eyesight, and gave the eyes insup- 
portable pain. 

There was thus produced a very singular effect of 
refraction. As they walked, when they thought they 
were about to put foot on a hillock, they stepped down 
lower, which often occasioned falls, happily so little 
serious that Penellan made them occasions for bantering. 
Still, he told them never to take a step without sounding 


246 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


the ground with the ferruled staff with which each was 
equipped. 

About the ist of November, ten days after they had set 
out, the caravan had gone fifty leagues to the northward. 
Weariness pressed heavily on all. Jean Cornbutte was 
painfully dazzled, and his sight sensibly changed. Aupic 
and Misonne had to feel their way : for their eyes, rimmed 
with red, seemed burnt by the white reflection. Marie 
had been preserved from this misfortune by remaining 
within her hut, to which she confined herself as much as 
possible. Penellan, sustained by an indomitable courage, 
resisted all fatigue. But it was Andre Vasling who bore 
himself best, and upon whom the cold and dazzling seemed 
to produce no effect. His iron frame was equal to every 
hardship ; and he was secretly pleased to see the most 
robust of his companions becoming discouraged, and 
already foresaw the moment when they would be forced to 
retreat to the ship again. 

On the 1st of November it became absolutely necessary 
- to halt for a day or two. As soon as the place for the 
encampment had been selected, they proceeded to arrange 
it. It was determined to erect a house of snow, which 
should be supported against one of the rocks of the pro- 
montory. Misonne at once marked out the foundations, 
which measured fifteen feet long by five wide. Penellan, 
Aupic, and Misonne, by aid of their knives, cut out great 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


247 


blocks of ice, which they carried to the chosen spot and 
set up, as masons would have built stone walls. The sides 
of the foundation w^ere soon raised to a height and thick- 
ness of about five feet ; for the materials were abundant, 
and the structure was intended to be sufficiently solid to 
last several days. The four walls were completed in 
eight hours ; an opening had been left on the southern 
side, and the canvas of the tent, placed on these four walls, 
fell over the opening and sheltered it. It only remained 
to cover the whole with large blocks, to form the roof of 
this temporary structure. 

After three more hours of hard work, the house Was 
done ; and they all went into it, overcome with weariness 
and discouragement. Jean Cornbutte suffered so much 
that he could not walk, and Andre Vasling so skilfully 
aggravated his gloomy feelings, that he forced from him a 
promise not to pursue his search farther in those frightful 
solitudes. Penellan did not know which saint to invoke. 
He thought it unworthy and craven to give up his com- 
panions for reasons which had little weight, and tried to 
upset them ; but in vain. 

Meanwhile, though it had been decided to return, rest 
had become so necessary that for three days no prepara- 
tions for departure were made. 

On the 4th of November, Jean Cornbutte began to bury 
on a point of the coast the provisions for which there was 


248 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


no use. A stake indicated the place odf the deposit, in the 
improbable event that new explorations should be made in 
that direction. Every day since they had set out similar 
deposits had been made, so that they were assured of 
ample sustenance on the return, without the trouble of 
carrying them on the sledge. 

The departure was fixed for ten in the morning, on the 
5th. The most profound sadness filled the little band. 
Marie with difficulty restrained her tears, when she saw her 
uncle so completely discouraged. So many useless suffer- 
ings ! so much labour lost ! Penellan himself became 
ferocious in his ill-humour ; he consigned everybody to the 
nether regions, and did not cease to wax angry at the 
weakness and cowardice of his comrades, who were more 
timid and tired, he said, than Marie, who would have gone 
to the end of the world without complaint. 

Andre Vasling could not disguise the pleasure which 
this decision gave him. He showed himself more attentive 
than ever to the young girl, to whom he even held out 
hopes that a new search should be made when the winter 
was over ; knowing well that it would then be too late ! 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


249 


CHAPTER X. 

BURIED ALIVE. 

The evening before the departure, just as they were about 
to take supper, Penellan was breaking up some empty 
casks for firewood, when he was suddenly suffocated by a 
- thick smoke. At the same instant the snow-house was 
shaken as if by an earthquake. The party uttered a cry 
of terror, and Penellan hurried outside. 

It was entirely dark. A frightful tempest — for it was 
not a thaw — was raging, whirlwinds of snow careered 
around, and it was so exceedingly cold that the helmsman 
felt his hands rapidly freezing. He was obliged to go in 
again, after rubbing himself violently with snow. 

It is a tempest,” said he. May heaven grant that our 
house may withstand it, for, if the storm should destroy it, 
we should be lost ! ” 

At the same time with the gusts of wind a noise was 
heard beneath the frozen soil ; icebergs, broken from the 


250 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


promontory, dashed away noisily, and fell upon one 
another ; the wind blew with such violence that it seemed 
sometimes as if the whole house moved from its foundation ; 
phosphorescent lights, inexplicable in that latitude, flashed 
across the whirlwinds of the snow. 

“ Marie ! Marie !” cried Penellan, seizing the young girl’s 
hands. 

^‘We are in a bad case!” said Misonne. 

“And I know not whether we shall escape,” replied 
Aupic. 

“Let us quit this snow- house I” said Andr6 Vasling. 

“Impossible!” returned Penellan. “The cold outside is 
terrible ; perhaps we can bear it by staying here.” 

“ Give me the thermometer,” demanded Vasling. 

Aupic handed it to him. It showed ten degrees below 
zero inside the house, though the fire was lighted. Vasling 
raised the canvas which covered the opening, and pushed it 
aside hastily ; for he would have been lacerated by the fall 
of ice which the wind hurled around, and which fell in a 
perfect hail-storm. 

“Well, Vasling,” said Penellan, “will you go out, then 
You see that we are more safe here.” 

“Yes,” said Jean Cornbutte ; “and we must use every 
effort to strengthen the house in the interior.” 

“But a still more terrible danger menaces us,” said 
Vasling. 



I 




THIRTY-TWO DEGREES BELOW ZERO T 


Page 251. 


4 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


251 


** What } ” asked J ean. 

*^The wind is breaking the ice against which we are 
propped, just as it has that of the promontory, and we shall 
be either driven out or buried !” 

That seems doubtful,” said Penellan, “ for it is freezing 
hard enough to ice over all liquid surfaces. Let us see what 
the temperature is.” 

He raised the canvas so as to pass out his arm, and with 
difficulty found the thermometer again, in the midst of the 
snow ; but he at last succeeded in seizing it, and, holding 
the lamp to it, said, — 

“ Thirty-two degrees below zero ! It is the coldest we 
have seen here yet!” 

“Ten degrees more,” said Vasling, “and the mercury 
will freeze!” 

A mournful silence followed this remark. 

About eight in the morning Penellan essayed a second 
time to go out to judge of their situation. It was neces- 
sary to give an escape to the smoke, which the wind had 
several times repelled into the hut. The sailor wrapped 
his cloak tightly about him, made sure of his hood by 
fastening it to his head with a handkerchief, and raised 
the canvas. 

The opening was entirely obstructed by a resisting snow. 
Penellan took his staff, and succeeded in plunging it into 
the compact mass ; but terror froze his blood when he per- 


252 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


ceived that the end of the staff was not free, and was checked 
by a hard body ! 

“Cornbutte,” said he to the captain, who had come up to 
him, “we are buried under this snow!” 

“What say you ?” cried Jean Cornbutte. 

“ I say that the snow is massed and frozen around us and 
over us, and that we are buried alive !” 

“ Let us try to clear this mass of snow away,” replied the 
captain. 

The two friends buttressed themselves against the ob- 
stacle which obstructed the opening, but they could not 
move it. The snow formed an iceberg more than five feet 
thick, and had become literally a part of the house. Jean 
could not suppress a cry, which awoke Misonne and Vasling. 
An oath burst from the latter, whose features contracted. 
At this moment the smoke, thicker than ever, poured into 
the house, for it could not find an issue. 

“Malediction!” cried Misonne. “The pipe of the stove 
is sealed up by the ice !” 

Penellan resumed his staff, and took down the pipe, after 
throwing snow on the embers to extinguish them, which 
produced such a smoke that the light of the lamp could 
scarcely be seen ; then he tried with his staff to clear out 
the orifice, but he only encountered a rock of ice ! A 
frightful end, preceded by a terrible agony, seemed to be 
their doom ! The smoke, penetrating the throats of the 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


253 


unfortunate party, caused an insufferable pain, and air 
would soon fail them altogether ! 

Marie here rose, and her presence, which inspired Corn- 
butte with despair, imparted some courage to Penellan. 
He said to himself that it could not be that the poor girl 
was destined to so horrible a death. 

Ah ! ” said she, “ you have made too much fire. The 
room is full of smoke ! ” 

*^Yes, yes,” stammered Penellan. 

'' It is evident,” resumed Marie, “ for it is not cold, and it 
is long since we have felt too much heat.” 

No one dared to tell her the truth. 

''See, Marie,” said Penellan bluntly> "help us get 
breakfast ready. It is too cold to go out. Here is the 
chafing-dish, the spirit, and the coffee. Come, you others, 
a little pemmican first, as this wretched storm forbids us 
from hunting.” 

These words stirred up his comrades. 

"Let us first eat,” added Penellan, "and then we shall 
see about getting off.” 

Penellan set the example and devoured his share of the 
breakfast. His comrades imitated him, and then drank a 
cup of boiling coffee, which somewhat restored their spirits. 
Then Jean Cornbutte decided energetically that they should 
at once set about devising means of safety. 

Andre Vasling now said, — 


254 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


** If the storm is still raging, which is probable, we must 
be buried ten feet under the ice, for we can hear no noise 
outside.” 

Penellan looked at Marie, who now understood the truth, 
and did not tremble. The helmsman first heated, by the 
flame of the spirit, the iron point of his staff, and success- 
fully introduced it into the four walls of ice, but he could 
And no issue in either. Cornbutte then resolved to cut out 
an opening in the door itself. The ice was so hard that it 
was difficult for the knives to make the least impression on 
it. The pieces which were cut off soon encumbered the 
hut. After working hard for two hours, they had only 
hollowed out a space three feet deep. 

Some more rapid method, and one which was less likely 
to demolish the house, must be thought of ; for the farther 
they advanced the more violent became the effort to break 
off the compact ice. It occurred to Penellan to make use 
of the chafing-dish to melt the ice in the direction they 
wanted. It was a hazardous method, for, if their imprison- 
ment lasted long, the spirit, of which they had but little, 
would be wanting when needed to prepare the meals. 
Nevertheless, the idea was welcomed on all hands, and was 
put in execution. They first cut a hole three feet deep by 
one in diameter, to receive the water which would result 
from the melting of the ice ; and it was well that they took 
this precaution, for the water soon dripped under the action 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


255 


of the flames, which Penellan moved about under the mass 
of ice. The opening widened little by little, but this kind 
of work could not be continued long, for the water, covering 
their clothes, penetrated to their bodies here and there. 
Penellan was obliged to pause in a quarter of an hour, and 
to withdraw the chafing-dish in order to dry himself. 
Misonne then took his place, and worked sturdily at the 
task. 

In two hours, though the opening was five feet deep, 
the points of the staffs could not yet find an issue 
without. 

It is not possible,” said Jean Cornbutte, **that snow 
could have fallen in such abundance. It must have been 
gathered on this point by the wind. Perhaps we had 
better think of escaping in some other direction.” 

I don’t know,” replied Penellan ; but if it were only 
for the sake of not discouraging our comrades, we ought to 
continue to pierce the wall where we have begun. We must 
find an issue- ere long.” 

''Will not the spirit fail us asked the captain. 

" I hope not. But let us, if necessary, dispense with 
coffee and hot drinks. ^ Besides, that is not what most 
alarms me.” 

" What is it, then, Penellan 

" Our lamp is going out, for want of oil, and we are fast 
exhausting our provisions. — At last, thank God !” 


256 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


Penellan went to replace Andre Vasling, who was 
vigorously working for the common deliverance. 

Monsieur Vasling,” said he, “ I am going to take your 
place ; but look out well, I beg of you, for every tendency 
of the house to fall, so that we may have time to prevent 
it.” 

The time for rest had come, and when Penellan had 
added one more foot to the opening, he lay down beside his 
comrades. 


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DESPAIR AND DETERMINATION WERE STRUGGLING IN HIS ROUGH 

FEATURES FOR THE MASTERY, 

Page 257, 


/ 


MASTERY 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


257 


CHAPTER XI. 

A CLOUD OF SMOKE. 

The next day, when the sailors awoke, they were sur- 
rounded by complete darkness. The lamp had gone out. 
Jean Cornbutte roused Penellan to ask him for the tinder- 
box, which was passed to him. Penellan rose to light the 
fire, but in getting up, his head struck against the ice 
ceiling. He was horrified, for on the evening before he 
could still stand upright. The chafing-dish being lighted 
up by the dim rays of the spirit, he perceived that the 
ceiling was a foot lower than before. 

Penellan resumed work with desperation. 

At this moment the young girl observed, by the light 
which the chafing-dish cast upon Penellan’s face, that 
despair and determination were struggling in his rough 
features for the mastery. She went to him, took his hands, 
and tenderly pressed them. 

** She cannot, must not die thus ! ” he cried. 

S 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


258 

He took his chafing-dish, and once more attacked the 
narrow opening. He plunged in his staff, and felt no 
resistance. Had he reached the soft layers of the snow ? 
He drew out his staff, and a bright ray penetrated to the 
house of ice ! 

“ Here, my friends ! ” he. shouted. 

He pushed back the snow with his hands and feet, but 
the exterior surface was not thawed, as he had thought. 
With the ray of light, a violent cold entered the cabin and 
seized upon everything moist, to freeze it in an instant. 
Penellan enlarged the opening with his cutlass, and at last 
was able to breathe the free air. He fell on his knees to 
thank God, and was soon joined by Marie and his comrades. 

A magnificent moon lit up the sky, but the cold was so 
extreme that they could not bear it. They re-entered their 
retreat ; but Penellan first looked about him. The pro- 
montory was no longer there, and the hut was now in the 
midst of a vast plain of ice. Penellan thought he would go 
to the sledge, where the provisions were. The sledge had 
disappeared ! 

The cold forced him to return. He said nothing to his 
companions. It was necessary, before all, to dry their 
clothing, which was done with the chafing-dish. The ther- 
mometer, held for an instant in the air, descended to thirty 
degrees below zero. 

An hour after, Vasling and Penellan resolved to venture 


A WINTER AMII> THE ICE. 


259 


outside. They wrapped themselves up in their still wet 
garments, and went out by the opening, the sides of which 
had become as hard as a rock. 

We have been driven towards the north-east,” said 
Vasling, reckoning by the stars, which shone with wonder- 
ful brilliancy. 

“ That would not be bad,” said Penellan, if our sledge 
had come with us.” 

Is not the sledge there?” cried Vasling. ‘‘Then we 
are lost!” 

“ Let us look for it,” replied Penellan. 

They went around the hut, which formed a block more 
than fifteen feet high. An immense quantity of snow had 
fallen during the whole of the storm, and the wind had 
massed it against the only elevation which the plain pre- 
sented. The entire block had been driven by the wind, in 
the midst of the broken icebergs, more than twenty-five 
miles to the north-east, and the prisoners had suffered the 
same fate as their floating prison. The sledge, supported 
by another iceberg, had been turned another way, for no 
trace of it was to be seen, and the dogs must have perished 
amid the frightful tempest. 

Andre Vasling and Penellan felt despair taking pos- 
session of them. They did not dare to return to their 
companions. They did not dare to announce this fatal 
news to their comrades in misfortune. They climbed upon 

S 2 


26 o 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


the block of ice in which the hut was hollowed, and could 
perceive nothing but the white immensity which encom- 
passed them on all sides. Already the cold was beginning 
to stiffen their limbs, and the damp of their garments was 
being transformed into icicles which hung about them. 

Just as Penellan was about to descend, he looked to- 
wards Andr6. He saw him suddenly gaze in one direc- 
tion, then shudder and turn pale. 

What is the matter, Vasling he asked. 

** Nothing,” replied the other. “Let us go down and 
urge the captain to leave these parts, where we ought never 
to have come, at once !” 

Instead of obeying, Penellan ascended again, and looked 
in the direction which had drawn the mate’s attention. A 
very different effect was produced on him, for he uttered a 
shout of joy, and cried, — 

“Blessed be God !” 

A light smoke was rising in the north-east. There was 
no possibility of deception. It indicated the presence of 
human beings. Penellan’s cries of joy reached the rest 
below, and all were able to convince themselves with their 
eyes that he was not mistaken. 

Without thinking of their want of provisions or the 
severity of the temperature, wrapped in their hoods, they 
were all soon advancing towards the spot whence the 
smoke arose in the north-east. This was evidently five or 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 26 1 

six miles off, and it was very difficult to take exactly the 
right direction. The smoke now disappeared, and no 
elevation served as a guiding mark, for the ice-plain was 
one united level. It was important, nevertheless, not to 
diverge from a straight line. 

“ Since we cannot guide ourselves by distant objects,” 
said Jean Cornbutte, “we must use this method. Penellan 
will go ahead, Vasling twenty steps behind him, and I 
twenty steps behind Vasling. I can then judge whether 
or not Penellan diverges from the straight line.” 

They had gone on thus for half an hour, when Penellan 
suddenly stopped and listened. The party hurried up 
to him. 

“Did you hear nothing he asked. 

“ Nothing !” replied Misonne. 

“It is strange,” said Penellan. “It seemed to me I 
heard cries from this direction.” 

“Cries.!*” replied Marie. “Perhaps we are near our 
destination, then.” 

“That is no reason,” said Andrd Vasling. “In these 
high latitudes and cold regions sounds may be heard to a 
great distance.” 

“However that may be,” replied Jean Cornbutte, “let 
us go forward, or we shall be frozen.” 

“ No ! ” cried Penellan. “ Listen ! ” 

Some feeble sounds— quite perceptible, however— were 


262 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


heard. They seemed to be cries of distress. They were 
twice repeated. They seemed like cries for help. Then 
all became silent again. 

** I was not mistaken,” said Penellan. “ Forward ! ” 

P^e began to run in the direction whence the cries had 
proceeded. He went thus two miles, when, to his utter 
stupefaction, he saw a man ‘lying on the ice. He went up 
to him, raised him, and lifted his arms to heaven in 
despair. 

Andre Vasling, who was following close- behind with the 
rest of the sailors, ran up and cried, — 

It is one of the castaways ! It is our sailor Courtois !” 

“ He is dead !” replied Penellan. “ Frozen to death !” 

Jean Cornbutte and Marie came up beside the corpse, 
which was already stiffened by the ice. Despair was 
written on every face. The dead man was one of the com- 
rades of Louis Cornbutte ! 

“ Forward !” cried Penellan. 

They went on for half an hour in perfect silence, and 
perceived an elevation which seemed without doubt to be 
land. 

“It is Shannon Island,” said Jean Cornbutte. 

A mile farther on they distinctly perceived smoke 
escaping from a snow-hut, closed by a wooden door. 
They shouted. Two men rushed out of the hut, and 
Penellan recognized one of them as Pierre Nouquet. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


263 


" Pierre!” he cried. 

Pierre stood still as if stunned, and unconscious of what 
was going on around him. Andrd Vasling looked at 
Pierre Nouquet’s companion with anxiety mingled with 
a cruel joy, for he did no-t recognize Louis Cornbutte in 
him. 

Pierre! it is I!” cried Penellan. These are all your 
friends ! ” 

Pierre Nouquet recovered his senses, and fell into his 
old comrade’s arms. 

*^And my son — and Louis!” cried Jean Cornbutte, in 
an accent of the most profound despair. 


264 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE RETURN TO THE SHIP. 

At this moment a man, almost dead, dragged himself out 
of the hut and along the ice. 

It was Louis Cornbutte. 

*‘My son !” 

“ My beloved ! 

These two cries were uttered at the same time, and 
Louis Cornbutte fell fainting into the arms of his father 
and Marie, who drew him towards the hut, where their 
tender care soon revived him. 

“My father! Marie!” cried Louis; “I shall not die 
•without having seen you !” 

“You will not die!'’ replied Penellan, “for all your 
friends are near you.” 

Andre Vasling must have hated Louis Cornbutte bitterly 
not to extend his hand to him, but he did not. 

Pierre Nouquet was wild with joy. He eipbraced every- 



I 


\ 


IT WAS LOUIS CORNBUTTE. 


Page 364. 



$ 



A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


265 


body ; then he threw some wood into the stove, and s9on a 
comfortable temperature was felt in the cabin. 

There were two men there whom neither Jean Cornbutte 
nor Penellan recognized. 

They were Jocki and Herming, the only two sailors of 
the crew of the Norwegian schooner who were left. 

“My friends, we are saved!” said Louis. “My father! 
Marie! You have exposed yourselves to so many 
perils !” 

“We do not regret it, my Louis,” replied the father. 
“Your brig, the ‘ Jeune-Hardie,’ is securely anchored in 
the ice sixty leagues from here. We will rejoin her all 
together.” 

“ When Courtois comes back he’ll be mightily pleased,” 
said Pierre Nouquet. 

A mournful silence followed this, and Penellan apprised 
Pierre and Louis of their comrade’s death by cold. 

“ My friends,” said Penellan, “ we will wait here until the 
cold decreases. Have you provisions and wood 

“Yes ; and we will burn what is left of the ‘Frooern.’ ” 

The “ Frooern ” had indeed been driven to a place forty 
miles from where Louis Cornbutte had taken up his winter 
quarters. There she was broken up by the icebergs floated 
by the thaw, and the castaways were carried, with a part 
of the debris of their cabin, on the southern shores of 
Shannon Island. 


266 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


They were then five in number — Louis Cornbutte, 
Courtois, Pierre Nouquet, Jocki, and Herming. As for 
the rest of the Norwegian crew, they had been submerged 
with the long-boat at the moment of the wreck. 

When Louis Cornbutte, shut in among the ice, realized 
what must happen, he took every precaution for passing 
the winter. He was an energetic man, very active and 
courageous ; but, despite his firmness, he had been subdued 
by this horrible climate, and when his father found him he 
had given up all hope of life. He had not only had to 
contend with the elements, but with the ugly temper of the 
two Norwegian sailors, who owed him their existence. 
They were like savages, almost inaccessible to the most 
natural emotions. When Louis had the opportunity to talk 
to Penellan, he advised him to watch them carefully. In 
return, Penellan told him of Andr^ Vasling’s conduct. 
Louis could not believe it, but Penellan convinced him that 
after his disappearance Vasling had always acted so as to 
secure Marie’s hand. 

The whole day was employed in rest and the pleasures 
of reunion. Misonne and Pierre Nouquet killed some sea- 
birds near the hut, whence it was not prudent to stray far. 
These fresh provisions and the replenished fire raised the 
spirits of the weakest. Louis Cornbutte got visibly better. 
It was the first moment of happiness these brave people 
had experienced. They celebrated it with enthusiasm in 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


267 


this wretched hut, six hundred leagues from the North 
Sea, in a temperature of thirty degrees below zero ! 

This temperature lasted till the end of the moon, and it 
was not until about the 17th of November, a week after 
their meeting, that Jean Cornbutte and his party could 
think of setting out. They only had the light of the stars 
to guide them ; but the cold was less extreme, and even 
some snow fell. 

Before quitting this place a grave was dug for poor 
Courtois. It was a sad ceremony, which deeply affected 
his comrades. He was the first of them who would not 
again see his native land. 

Misonne had constructed, with the planks of the cabin, 
a sort of sledge for carrying the provisions, and the sailors 
drew it by turns. Jean Cornbutte led the expedition by 
the ways already traversed. Camps were established with 
great promptness when the times for repose canTe. Jean 
Cornbutte hoped to find his deposits of provisions again, 
as they had become well-nigh indispensable by the addi- 
tion of four persons to the party. He was therefore very 
careful not to diverge from the route by which he had 
come. 

By good fortune he recovered his sledge, which had 
stranded near the promontory where they had all run so 
many dangers. The dogs, after eating their straps to 
satisfy their hunger, had attacked the provisions in the 


268 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


sledge. These had sustained them, and they served to 
guide the party to the sledge, where there was a con- 
siderable quantity of provisions left. The little band 
resumed its march tov/ards the bay. The dogs were 
harnessed to the sleigh, and no event of interest attended 
the return. 

It was observed that Aupic, Andr6 Vasling, and the 
Norwegians kept aloof, and did not mingle with the 
others ; but, unbeknown to themselves, they were narrowly 
watched. This germ of dissension more than once aroused 
the fears of Louis Cornbutte and Penellan. 

About the 7th of December, twenty days after the dis- 
covery of the castaways, they perceived the bay where the 
“ Jeune-Hardie ” was lying. What was their astonishment 
to see the brig perched four yards in the air on blocks of 
ice ! They hurried forward, much alarmed for their com- 
panions, and were received with joyous cries by Gervique, 
Turquiette, and Gradlin. All of them were in good 
health, though they too had been subjected to formidable 
dangers. 

The tempest had made itself felt throughout the polar 
sea. The ice had been broken and displaced, crushed one 
piece against another, and had seized the bed on which the 
ship rested. Though its specific weight tended to carry it 
under water, the ice had acquired an incalculable force, and 
the brig had been suddenly raised up out of the sea. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


269 


The first moments were given up to the happiness in- 
spired by the safe return. The exploring party were re- 
joiced to find everything in good condition, which assured 
them a supportable though it might be a rough winter. 
The ship had not been shaken by her sudden elevation, and 
was perfectly tight. When the season of thawing came, 
they would only have to slide her down an inclined plane, 
to launch her, in a word, in the once more open sea. 

But a bad piece of news spread gloom on the faces of 
Jean Cornbutte and his comrades. During the terrible 
gale the snow storehouse on the coast had been quite de- 
molished ; the provisions which it contained were scattered, 
and it had not been possible to save a morsel of them. 
When Jean and Louis Cornbutte learnt this, they visited 
the hold and steward's room, to ascertain the quantity of 
provisions which still remained. 

The thaw would not come until May, and the brig could 
not leave the bay before that period. They had therefore 
five winter months before them to pass amid the ice, during 
which fourteen persons were to be fed. Having made his 
calculations, Jean Cornbutte found that he would at most 
be able to keep them alive till the time for departure, by 
putting each and all on half rations. Hunting for game 
became compulsory to procure food in larger quantity. 

For fear that they might again run short of provisions, it 
was decided to deposit them no longer in the ground. All 


2/0 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


of them were kept on board, and beds were disposed for the 
new comers in the common lodging. Turquiette, Gervique, 
and Gradlin, during the absence of the others, had hollowed 
out a flight of steps in the ice, which enabled them easily to 
reach the ship’s deck. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


271 


CHAPTER XIIL. 

THE TWO RIVALS. 

Andr£ Vasling had been cultivating the good-will of 
j the two Norwegian sailors. Aupic also made one of their 
I band, and held himself apart, with loud disapproval of all 
i the new measures taken ; but Louis Cornbutte, to whom his 
father had transferred the command of the ship, and who 
had become once more master on board, would listen to no 
objections from that quarter, and in spite of Marie’s advice to 
' act gently, made it known that he intended to be obeyed 
on all points. 

Nevertheless, the two Norwegians succeeded, two days 
after, in getting possession of a box of salt meat. Louis 
! ordered them to return it to him on the spot, but Aupic 

I 

I took their part, and Andr^ Vasling declared that the 
precautions about the food could not be any longer 
j enforced. 

; It was useless to attempt to show these men that these 


2/2 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


measures were for the common interest, for they knew it 
well, and only sought a pretext to revolt. 

Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians, who drew 
their cutlasses ; but, aided by Misonne and Turquiette, he 
succeeded in snatching the weapons from their hands, and 
gained possession of the salt meat. Andre Vasling and 
Aupic, seeing that matters were ^oing against them, did 
not interfere. Louis Cornbutte, however, took the mate 
aside, and said to him, — 

** Andre Vasling, you are a wretch ! I know your whole 
conduct, and I know what you are aiming at, but as the 
safety of the whole crew is confided to me, if any man of 
you thinks of conspiring to destroy them, I will stab him 
with my own hand ! ” 

Louis Cornbutte,” replied the mate, is allowable 
for you to act the master; but remember that absolute 
obedience does not exist here, and that here the strongest 
alone makes the law.” 

Marie had never trembled before the dangers of the 
polar seas ; but she was terrified by this hatred, of which 
she was the cause, and the captain’s vigour hardly reas- 
sured her. 

Despite this declaration of war, the meals were partaken 
of in common and at the same hours. Hunting furnished 
some ptarmigans and white hares ; but this resource would 
soon fail them, with the approach of the terrible cold 



PENELLAN ADVANCED TOWARDS THE NORWEGIANS. 


Page 272 










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A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


273 


weather. This began at the solstice, on the 22nd of 
December, on which day the thermometer fell to thirty- 
five degrees below zero. The men experienced pain in 
their ears, noses, and the extremities of their bodies. 
They were seized with a mortal torpor combined with 
headache, and their breathing became more and more 
difficult. 

In this state they had no longer any courage to go hunt- 
ing or to take any exercise. They remained crouched 
around the stove, which gave them but a meagre heat ; and 
when they went away trom it, they perceived that their 
blood suddenly cooled. 

Jean Cornbutte’s health was seriously impaired^ and he 
could no longer quit his lodging. Symptoms of scurvy 
manifested themselves in him, and his legs were soon 
covered with white spots. Marie was well, however, and 
occupied herself tending the sick ones with the zeal of a 
sifter of charity. The honest fellows blessed her from the 
bottom of their hearts. 

The 1st of January was one of the gloomiest of these 
winter days. The wind was violent, and the cold insup- 
portable. They could not go out, except at the ri.sk of 
being frozen. The most courageous were fain to limit 
themselves to walking on deck, sheltered by the tent. Jean 
Cornbutte, Gervique, and Gradlin did not leave their beds. 
The two Norwegians, Aupic, and Andre Vasling, whose 

T 


274 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


health was good, cast ferocious looks at their companions, 
whom they saw wasting away. 

Louis Cornbutte led Penellan on deck, and asked him 
how much firing was left. 

The coal was exhausted long ago,” replied Penellan, 
“and we are about to burn our last pieces of wood.” 

*Tf we are not able to keep off this cold, we are lost,” 
said Louis. 

“ There still remains a way — ” said Penellan, “ to burn 
what we can of the brig, from the barricading to the water- 
line ; and we can even, if need be, demolish her entirely, 
and rebuild a smaller craft.” 

. “That is an extreme means,” replied Louis, “which it 
will be full time to employ when our men are well. For,” 
he added in a low voice, “our force is diminishing, and 
that of our enemies seems to be increasing. That is extra- 
ordinary.” 

“ It is true,” said Penellan ; “and unless we took the pre- 
caution to watch night and day, I know not what would 
happen to us.” 

“ Let us take our hatchets,” returned Louis, “ and make 
our harvest of wood.” 

Despite the cold, they mounted on the forward 
barricading, and cut off all the wood which was not 
indispensably necessary to the ship ; then they returned 
with this new provision. The fire was started afresh, 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


275 


and a man remained on guard to prevent it from going 
out. 

Meanwhile Louis Cornbutte and his friends were soon 
tired out. They could not confide any detail of the life 
in common to their enemies. Charged with all the domes- 
tic cares, their powers were soon exhausted. The scurvy 
betrayed itself in Jean Cornbutte, who suffered intolerable 
pain. Gervique and Gradlin showed symptoms of the 
same disease. Had it not been for the lemon-juice with 
which they were abundantly furnished, they would have 
speedily succumbed to their sufferings. This remedy was 
not spared in relieving them. 

But one day, the 15th of January, when Louis Cornbutte 
was going down into the steward’s room to get some lemons, 
he was stupefied to find that the barrels in which they were 
kept had disappeared. He hurried up and told Penellan of 
this misfortune. A theft had been committed, and it was 
easy to recognize its authors. Louis Cornbutte then un- 
derstood why the health of his enemies continued so good ! 
His friends were no longer strong enough to take the 
lemons away from them, though his life and that of his 
comrades depended on the fruit ; and he now sank, for the 
first time, into a gloomy state of despair. 


276 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

DISTRESS. 

On the 20th of January most of the crew had not the 
strength to leave their beds. Each, independently of his 
woollen coverings, had a buffalo-skin to protect him against 
the cold ; but as soon as he put his arms outside the clothes, 
he felt a pain which obliged him quickly to cover them again. 

Meanwhile, Louis having lit the stove fire, Penellan, 
Misonne, and Andre Vasling left their beds and crouched 
around it. Penellan prepared some boiling coffee, which 
gave them some strength, as well as Marie, who joined 
them in partaking of it. 

Louis Cornbutte approached his father’s bedside ; the 
old man was almost motionless, and his limbs were help- 
less from disease. He muttered some disconnected words, 
which carried grief to his son’s heart. 

“ Louis,” said he, I am dying. O, how I suffer ! Save 
mel” 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


277 


Louis took a decisive resolution. He wer^t up to the 
mate, and, controlling himself with difficulty, said, — 

** Do you know where the lemons are, Vasling ?” 

“In the steward’s roonj, I suppose,” returned the mate, 
without stirring, 

“ You know they are not there, as you have stolen 
them !” 

“You are master, Louis Cornbutte, and may say and do 
anything.” 

“ For pity’s sake, Andre Vasling, my father is dying! 
You can save him, — amswer !” 

“ I have nothing to answer,” replied Andre Vasling. 

“Wretch!” cried Penellan, throwing himself, cutlass in 
hand, on the mate. 

“Help, friends!” shouted Vasling, retreating. 

Aupic and the two Norwegian sailors jumped from 
their beds and placed themselves behind him. Turquiette, 
Penellan, and Louis prepared to defend themselves. 
Pierre Nouquet and Gradlin, though suffering much, rose 
to second them. 

“ You are still too strong for us,” said Vasling. “ We 
do not wish to fight on an uncertainty.” 

The sailors were so weak that they dared not attack the 
four rebels, for, had they failed, they would have been 
lost. 

“Andr^ Vasling!” said Louis Cornbutte, in a gloomy 


2;8 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


tone, “ if my father dies, you will have murdered him ; and 
I will kill you like a dog!” 

Vasling and his confederates retired to the other end of 
the cabin, and did not reply. 

It was then necessary to renew the supply of wood, and, 
in spite of the cold, Louis went on deck and began to cut 
away a part of the barricading, but was obliged to retreat 
in a quarter of an hour, for he was in danger of falling, 
overcome by the freezing air. As he passed, he cast a 
glance at the thermometer left outside, and saw that the 
mercury was frozen. The cold, then, exceeded forty-two 
degrees below zero. The weather was dry, and the wind 
blew from the north. 

On the 26th the wind changed to the north-east, and the 
thermometer outside stood at thirty-five degrees. Jean 
Cornbutte w^as in agony, and his son had searched in vain 
for some remedy with which to relieve his pain. On this 
day, however, throwing himself suddenly on Vasling, he 
managed to snatch a lemon from him which he was about 
to suck. 

Vasling made no attempt to recover it. He seemed 
to be awaiting an opportunity to accomplish his wicked 
designs. 

The lemon-juice somewhat relieved old Cornbutte, but it 
was necessary to continue the remedy. Marie begged 
Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but he did 



MARIE BEGGED VASLING ON HER KNEES TO PRODUCE THE LEMONS, 

BUT HE DID NOT REPLY. 


Page 278. 





A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


279 


not reply, and soon Penellan heard the wretch say to his 
accomplices, — 

“The old fellow is dying. Gervique, Gradlin, and Nou- 
quet are not much better. The others are daily losing 
their strength. The time is near when their lives will 
belong to us !” 

It was then resolved by Louis Cornbutte and his adhe- 
rents not to wait, and to profit by the little strength which 
still remained to them. They determined to act the next 
night, and to kill these wretches, so as not to be killed by 
them. 

The temperature rose a little. Louis Cornbutte ventured 
to go out with his gun in search of some game. 

He proceeded some three miles from the ship, and often, 
deceived by the effects of the mirage and refraction, he 
went farther away than he intended. It was imprudent, 
for recent tracts of ferocious animals were to be seen. He 
did not wish, however, to return without some fresh meat, 
and continued on his route ; but he then experienced a 
strange feeling, which turned his head. It was what is 
called “ white vertigo.” 

The reflection of the ice hillocks and fields affected him 
from head to foot, and it seemed to him that the dazzling 
colour penetrated him and caused an irresistible nausea. 
His eye was attacked. His sight became uncertain. He 
thought he should go mad with the glare. Without fully 


28 o 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


understanding this terrible effect, he advanced on his way, 
and soon put up a ptarmigan, which he eagerly pursued. 
The bird soon fell, and in order to reach it Louis leaped 
from an ice-block and fell heavily ; for the leap was at 
least ten feet, and the refraction made him think it was 
only two. The vertigo then seized him, and, without 
knowing why, he began to call for help, though he had 
not been injured by the fall. The cold began to take 
him, and he rose with pain, urged by the sense of self- 
preservation. 

Suddenly, without being able to account for it, he smelt 
an odour of boiling fat. As the ship was between him and 
the wind, he supposed that this odour proceeded from her, 
and could not imagine why they should be cooking fat, 
this being a dangerous thing to do, as it was likely to 
attract the white bears. 

Louis returned towards the ship, absorbed in reflections 
which soon inspired his excited mind with terror. It 
seemed to him as if colossal masses were moving on the 
horizon, and he asked himself if there was not another ice- 
quake. Several of these masses interposed themselves 
between him and the ship, and appeared to rise about its 
sides. He stopped to gaze at them more attentively, when 
to his horror he recognized a herd of gigantic bears. 

These animals had been attracted by the odour of grease i 
which had surprised Louis. He sheltered himself behind i 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


281 


a hillock, and counted three, which were scaling the blocks 
on which the “ Jeune-Hardie” was resting. 

Nothing led him to suppose that this danger was known 
in the interior of the ship, and a terrible anguish oppressed 
his heart. How resist these redoubtable enemies ? Would 
Andre Vasling and his confederates unite with the rest on 
board in the common peril Could Penellan and the 
others, half starved, benumbed with cold, resist these for- 
midable animals, made wild by unassuaged hunger } Would 
they not be surprised by an unlooked-for attack > 

Louis made these reflections rapidly. The bears had 
crossed the blocks, and were mounting to the assault of 
the ship. He might then quit the block which protected 
him ; he went nearer, clinging to the ice, and could soon 
see the enormous animals tearing the tent with their paws, 
and leaping on the deck. He thought of firing his gun to 
give his comrades notice ; but if these came up without 
arms, they would inevitably be torn in pieces, and nothing 
showed as yet that they were even aware of their new 
danger. 


282 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE WHITE BEARS. 

After Louis Cornbutte’s departure, Penellan had carefully 
shut the cabin door, which opened at the foot of the deck 
steps. He returned to the stove, which he took it upon 
himself to watch, whilst his companions regained their 
berths in search of a little warmth. 

It was then six in the evening, and Penellan set about 
preparing supper. He went down into the steward’s 
room for some salt meat, which he wished to soak in 
the boiling water. When he returned, he found Andre 
Vasling in his place, cooking some pieces of grease in a 
basin. 

“ I was there before you,” said Penellan roughly ; “ why 
have you taken my place 

‘‘For the same reason that you claim it,” returned 
Vasling : “ because I want to cook my supper.” 

“You will take that oft’ at once, or we shall see !” 


4 




MARIE ROSE WITH CRIES OF DESPAIR, AND HURRIED 10 THE BED 

OF OLD JEAN CORNBUTTE. | 


Page 283 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


283 


We shall see nothing,” said Vasling ; my supper shall 
be cooked in spite of you.” 

*‘You shall not eat it, then,” cried Penellan, rushing 
upon Vasling, who seized his cutlass, crying, — 

Help, Norwegians ! Help, Aupic ! ” 

These, in the twinkling of an eye, sprang to their feet, 
armed with pistols and daggers. The crisis had come. 

Penellan precipitated himself upon Vasling, to whom, no 
doubt, was confided the task to fight him alone ; for his 
accomplices rushed to the beds where lay Misonne, Tur- 
quiette, and Nouquet. The latter, ill and defenceless, was 
delivered over to Herming’s ferocity. The carpenter seized 
a hatchet, and, leaving his berth, hurried up to encounter 
Aupic. Turquiette and Jocki, the Norwegian, struggled 
fiercely. Gervique and Gradlin, suffering horribly, were 
not even conscious of what was passing around them. 

Nouquet soon received a stab in the side, and Herming 
turned to Penellan, who was fighting desperately. Andrd 
Vasling had seized him round the body. 

At the beginning of the affray the basin had been upset 
on the stove, and the grease running over the burning coals, 
impregnated the atmosphere with its odour. Marie rose 
with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old Jean 
Cornbutte. 

Vasling, less strong than Penellan, soon perceived that 
the latter was getting the better of him. They were too 


284 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


close together to ‘make use of their weapons. The mate, 
seeing Herming, cried out, — 

“ Help, Herming 

** Help, Misonne ! ” shouted Penellan, in his turn. 

But Misonne was rolling on the ground with Aupic, who 
was trying to stab him with his cutlass. The carpenter’s 
hatchet was of little use to him, for he could not wield it, 
and it was with the greatest difficulty that he parried the 
lunges which Aupic made with his knife. 

Meanwhile blood flowed amid the groans and cries. 
Turquiette, thrown down by Jocki, a man of immense 
strength, had received a wound in the shoulder, and he 
tried in vain to clutoh a pistol which hung in the Norwe- 
gian’s belt. The latter held him as in a vice, and it was 
impossible for him to move. 

At Vasling’s cry for help, who was being held by Penellan 
close against the door, Herming rushed up. As he was 
about to stab the Breton’s back with his cutlass, the latter 
felled him to the earth with a vigorous kick. His effort to 
do this enabled Vasling to disengage his right arm ; but 
the door, against which they pressed with all their weight, 
suddenly yielded, and Vasling fell over. 

Of a sudden a terrible growl was heard, and a gigantic 
bear appeared on the steps. Vasling saw him first. He 
was not four feet away from him. At the same moment 
a shot was heard, and the bear, wounded or frightened. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


285 


retreated. Vasling, who had succeeded in regaining his 
feet, set out in pursuit of him, abandoning Penellan. 

Penellan then replaced the door, and looked around him. 
Misonne and Turquiette, tightly garrotted by their antago- 
nists, had been thrown into a corner, and made vain 
efforts to break loose. Penellan rushed to their assistance, 
but was overturned by the two Norwegians and Aupic. 
His exhausted strength did not permit him to resist these 
three men, who so clung to him as to hold him motionless 
Then, at the cries of the mate, they hurried on deck, think- 
ing that Louis Cornbutte was to be encountered. 

Andre Vasling was struggling with a bear, which he had 
already twice stabbed with his knife. The animal, beating 
the air with his heavy paws, was trying to clutch Vasling ; 
he retiring little by little on the barricading, was apparently 
doomed, when a second shot was heard. The bear fell. 
Andre Vasling raised his head and saw Louis Cornbutfe 
in the ratlines of the mizen-mast, his gun in his hand. 
Louis had shot the bear in the heart, and he was dead. 

Hate overcame gratitude in Vasling’s breast ; but before 
satisfying it, he looked around him. Aupic’s head was 
broken by a paw-stroke, and he lay lifeless on deck. Jocki, 
hatchet in hand, was with difficulty parrying the blows ot 
the second bear which had just killed Aupic. The animal 
had received two wounds, and still struggled desperately. 
A third bear was directing his way towards the ship’s 


28'6 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


prow. Vasling paid no attention to him, but, followed by 
Herming, went to the aid of Jocki; but Jocki, seized by 
the beast’s paws, was crushed, and when the bear fell under 
the shots of the other two men, he held only a corpse in 
his shaggy arms. 

“ We are only two, now,^’ said Vasling, with gloomy fero- 
city, but if we yield, it will not be without vengeance ! ” 

Herming reloaded his pistol without replying. Before 
all, the third bear must be got rid of. Vasling looked 
forward, but did not see him. On raising his eyes, he 
perceived him erect on the barricading, clinging to the 
ratlines and trying to reach Louis. Vasling let his gun 
fall, which he had aimed at the animal, while a fierce joy 
glittered in his eyes. 

Ah,” he cried, “ you owe me that vengeance ! ” 

Louis took refuge in the top of the mast. The bear 
kept mounting, and was not more than six feet from Louis, 
when he raised his gun and pointed it at the animal’s 
heart. 

Vasling raised his weapon to shoot Louis if the bear fell. 

Louis fired, but the bear did not appear to be hit, for he 
leaped with a bound towards the top. The whole mast 
shook. 

Vasling uttered a shout of exultation. 

“Herming,” he cried, “go and find Marie! Go and 
find my betrothed 1 ” 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


287 


Herming descended the cabin stairs. 

Meanwhile the furious beast had thrown himself upon 
Louis, who was trying to shelter himself on the other side 
of the mast ; but at the moment that his enormous paw 
was raised to break his head, Louis, seizing one of the 
backstays, let himself slip down to the deck, not without 
danger, for a ball hissed by his ear when he was half-way 
down. Vasling had shot at him, and missed him. The 
two adversaries now confronted each other, cutlass in hand. 

The combat was about to become decisive. To entirely 
glut his vengeance, and to have the young girl witness 
her lover’s death, Vasling had deprived himself of Her- 
ming’s aid. He could now reckon only on himself. 

Louis and Vasling seized each other by the collar, and 
held each other with iron grip. One of them must fall. 
They struck each other violently. The blows were only 
half parried, for blood soon flowed from both. Vasling 
tried to clasp his adversary about the neck with his arm, 
to bring him to the ground. Louis, knowing that he who 
fell was lost, prevented him, and succeeded in grasping his 
two arms ; but in doing this he let fall his cutlass. 

Piteous cries now assailed his ears ; it was Marie’s voice. 
Herming was trying to drag her up. Louis was seized 
with a desperate rage. He stiffened himself to bend 
Vasling’s loins ; but at this moment the combatants felt 
themselves seized in a powerful embrace. The bear, 


288 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


having descended from the mast, had fallen upon the 
two men. Vasling was pressed against the animal’s body. 
Louis felt his claws entering his flesh. The bear was 
strangling both of them. 

Help ! help ! Herming ! ** cried the mate. 

** Help ! Penellan ! ” cried Louis. 

Steps were heard on the stairs. Penellan appeared, 
loaded his pistol, and discharged it in the bear’s ear ; he 
roared ; the pain made him relax his paws for a moment, 
and Louis, exhausted, fell motionless on the deck ; but the 
bear, closing his paws tightly in a supreme agony, fell, 
dragging down the wretched Vasling, whose body was 
crushed under him. 

Penellan hurried to Louis Cornbutte’s assistance. No 
serious wound endangered his life ; he had only lost his 
breath for a moment 

** Marie ! ” he said, opening his eyes. 

Saved ! ” replied Peifellan. “ Herming is lying there 
with a knife-wound in his stogiach.” 

And the bears—” 

“ Dead, Louis ; dead, like our enemies ! But for those 
beasts we should have been lost Truly, they came to our 
succour. Let us thank Heaven ! 

Louis and Penellan descended to the cabin, and Marie 
fell into their arms. 



THE BEAR, HAVING DESCENDED FRC'M THE MAST, HAD FALLEN ON 

THE TWO MEN. 


Page 288 . 










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A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


289 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CONCLUSION, 

Herming, mortally wounded, had been carried to a berth 
by Misonne and Turquiette, who had succeeded in getting 
free. He was already at the last gasp of death ; and the 
two sailors occupied themselves with Nouquet, whose 
wound was not, happily, a serious one. 

But a greater misfortune had overtaken Louis Corn- 
butte. His father no longer gave any signs of life. Had 
he died of anxiety for his son, delivered over to his enemies ? 
Had he succumbed in presence of these terrible events.? 
They could not tell. But the poor old sailor, broken by 
disease, had ceased to live ! 

At this unexpected blow, Louis and Marie fell into a 
sad despair ; then they knelt at the bedside and wept, as 
they prayed for Jean Cornbutte’s soul. Penellan, Misonne, 
and Turquiette left them alone in the cabin, and went on 
deck. The bodies of the three bears were carried forward. 

U 


290 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


Penellan decided to keep their skins, which would be of no 
little use ; but he did not think for a moment of eating 
their flesh. Besides, the number of men to feed was now 
much decreased. The bodies of Vasling, Aupic, and 
Jocki, thrown into a hole dug on the coast, were soon re- 
joined by that of Herming. The Norwegian died during 
the night, without repentance or remorse, foaming at the 
mouth with rage. 

The three sailors repaired the tent, which, torn in several 
places, permitted the snow to fall on the deck. The tem- 
perature was exceedingly cold, and kept so till the return 
of the sun, which did not reappear above the horizon till 
the 8th of January. 

Jean Corn butte was buried on the coast. He had left 
his native land to find his son, and had died in these 
terrible regions ! His grave was dug on an eminence, and 
the sailors placed over it a simple wooden cross. 

From that day, Louis Cornbutte and his comrades 
passed through many other tri'als ; but the lemons, which 
they found, restored them to health. 

Gervique, Gradlin, and Nouquet were able to rise from 
their berths a fortnight after these terrible events, and to 
take a little exercise. 

Soon hunting for game became more easy and its results 
more abundant. The water-birds returned in large 
numbers. They often brought down a kind of wild duck 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


291 


which made excellent food. The hunters had no other 
deprivation to deplore than that of two dogs, which they 
lost in an expedition to reconnoitre the state of the ice- 
fields, twenty-five miles to the southward. 

The month of February was signalized by violent tem- 
pests and abundant snows. The mean temperature was 
still twenty-five degrees below zero, but they did not suffer 
in comparison with past hardships. Besides, the sight of 
the sun, which rose higher and higher above the horizon, 
rejoiced them, as it forecast the end of their torm^ents. 
Heaven had pity on them, for warmth came sooner than 
usual that year. The ravens appeared in March, careering 
about the ship. Louis Cornbutte captured some cranes 
which had wandered thus far northward. Flocks of wild 
birds were also seen in the south. 

The return of the birds indicated a diminution of the 
cold ; but it was not safe to rely upon this, for with a 
change of wind, or in the new or full moons, the tempera- 
fure suddenly fell ; and the sailors were forced to resort to 
their most careful precautions to protect themselves against 
it. They had already burned all the barricading, the bulk- 
heads, and a large portion of the bridge. It was time, 
then, that their wintering was over. Happily, the mean 
temperature of March was not over sixteen degrees below 
zero. Marie occupied herself with preparing new clothing 
for the advanced season of the year. 


U 2 


292 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


After the equinox, the sun had remained constantly 
above the horizon. The eight months of perpetual day- 
light had begun. This continual sunlight, with the 
increasing though still quite feeble heat, soon began to act 
upon the ice. 

Great precautions were necessary in launching the 
ship from the lofty layer of ice which surrounded her. She 
was therefore securely propped up, and it seemed best to 
await the breaking up of the ice ; but the lower mass, 
resting on a bed of already warm water, detached itself 
little by little, and the ship gradually descended with it. 
Early in April she had reached her natural level. 

Torrents of rain came with April, which, extending in 
waves over the ice-plain, hastened still more its breaking 
up. The thermometer rose to ten degrees below zero. 
Some of the men took off their seal-skin clothes, and it was 
no longer necessary to keep a fire in the cabin stove day 
and night. The provision of spirit, which was not ex- 
hausted, was used only for cooking the food. 

Soon the ice began to break up rapidly, and it became 
imprudent to venture upon the plain without a staff to 
sound the passages ; for fissures wound in spirals here and 
there. Some of the sailors fell into the water, with no worse 
result, however, than a pretty cold bath. 

The seals returned, and they were often hunted, and their 
grease utilized. 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


293 


The health of the crew was fully restored, and the time 
was employed in hunting and preparations for departure. 
Louis Cornbutte often examined the channels, and decided, 
in consequence of the shape of the southern coast, to 
attempt a passage in that direction. The breaking up had 
already begun here and there, and the floating ice began to 
pass off towards the high seas. On the 25th of April the 
ship was put in readiness. The sails, taken from their 
sheaths, were found to be perfectly preserved, and it was 
with real delight that the sailors saw them once more 
swaying in the wind. The ship gave a lurch, for she had 
found her floating line, and though she would not yet 
move forward, she lay quietly and easily in her natural 
element. 

In May the thaw became very rapid. The snow which 
covered the coast melted on every hand, and formed'' a 
thick mud, which made it well-nigh impossible to land. 
Small heathers, rosy and white, peeped out timidly above 
the lingering snow, and seemed to smile at the little heat 
they received. The thermometer at last rose above zero. 

Twenty miles off, the ice masses, entirely separated, 
floated towards the Atlantic Ocean. Though the sea was 
not quite free around the ship, channels opened by which 
Louis Cornbutte wished to profit. 

On the 2 1 St of May, after a parting visit to his father’s 
grave, Louis at last set out from the bay. The hearts of 


294 


A WINTER AMID THE ICE. 


the honest sailors were filled at once with joy and sadness, 
for one does not leave without regret a place where 'a 
friend has died. The wind blew from the north, and 
favoured their departure. The ship was often arrested by 
ice-banks, which were cut with the saws ; ^icebergs not 
seldom confronted her, and it was necessary to blow them 
up with powder. For a month the way was full of perils, 
which sometimes brought the ship to the yerge of destruc- 
tion ; but the crew were sturdy, and used to these dangerous 
exigencies. Penellan, Pierre Nouquet, Turquiette, Fidele 
Misonne, did the work of ten sailors, and Marie had smiles 
of gratitude for each. 

The “ Jeune-Hardie” at last passed beyond the ice in 
the latitude of Jean-Mayer Island. About the 25th of June 
she met ships going northward for seals and whales. She 
h^d been nearly a month emerging from the Polar Sea. 

On the 1 6th of August she came in view of Dunkirk. 
She had been signalled by the look-out, and the whole 
population flocked to the jetty. The sailors of the ship 
were soon clasped in ths arms of their friends. The old 
cure received Louis Cornbutte and Marie with patriarchal 
arms, and of the two masses which he said on the following 
day, the first was for the repose of Jean Cornbutte’s soul, 
and the second to bless these two lovers, so long united in 
misfortune. 



Page 294 



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THE 

FORTIETH FRENCH ASCENT 
OF MONT BLANC, BY PAUL 
VERNE. 


I ARRIVED at Chamonix on the i8th of August, 1871, 
fully decided to make the ascent of Mont Blanc, cost what 
it might My first attempt in August, 1869, was not 
successful. Bad weather had prevented me from mount- 
ing beyond the Grands-Mulets. This time circumstances 
seemed scarcely more favourable, for the weather, which 
had promised to be fine on the morning of the i8th, 
suddenly changed towards noon. Mont Blanc, as they 
say in its neighbourhood, “put on its cap and began to 
smoke its pipe,” which, to speak more plainly, means that 
it is covered with clouds, and that the snow, driven upon it 
by a south-west wind, formed a long crest on its summit in 


296 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


the direction of the unfathomable precipices of the Brenva 
glaciers. This crest betrayed to imprudent tourists the 
route they would have taken, had they had the temerity to 
venture upon the mountain. 

The next night was very inclement. The rain and 
wind were violent, and the barometer, below the change,” 
remained stationary. 

Towards daybreak, however, several thunder-claps an- 
nounced a change in the state of the atmosphere. Soon 
the clouds broke. The chain of the Brevent and the 
Aiguilles-Rouges betrayed itself. The wind, turning to 
the north-west, brought into view above the Col de Balme, 
which shuts in the valley of Chamonix on the north, some 
light, isolated, fleecy clouds, which I hailed as the heralds 
of fine weather. 

Despite this happy augury and a slight rise in the 
barometer, M. Balmat, chief guide of Chamonix, declared 
to me that I must not yet think of attempting the ascent. 

‘'If the barometer continues to rise,” he added, “and 
the weather holds good, I promise you guides for the day 
after to-morrow — perhaps for to-morrow. Meanwhile, have 
patience and stretch your legs ; I will take you up the 
Brevent. The clouds are clearing away, and you will be 
able to exactly distinguish the path you will have to go 
over to reach the summit of Mont Blanc. If, in spite of 
this, you are determined to go, you may try it ! ” 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


297 


This speech, uttered in a certain tone, was not very- 
reassuring, and gave food for reflection. Still, I accepted 
his proposition, and he chose as my companion the guide 
Edward Ravanel, a very sedate and devoted fellow, who 
perfectly knew his business. 

M. Donatien Levesque, an enthusiastic tourist and an 
intrepid pedestrian, who had made early in the previous 
year an intere.sting and difficult trip in North America, 
was with me. He had already visited the greater part of 
America, and was about to descend the Mississippi to New 
Orleans, when the war cut short his projects and recalled 
him to France. We had met at Aix-les-Bains, and we 
had determined to make an. excursion together in Savoy 
and Switzerland. 

Donatien Levesque knew my intentions, and, as he 
thought that his health would not permit him to attempt 
so long a journey over the glaciers, it had been agreed that 
he should await my return from Mont Blanc at Chamonix, 
and should make the traditional visit to the Mer-de-Glace 
by the Montanvers during my abzenoe. 

On learning that I was going to ascend the Brevent, 
my friend did not hesitate to accompany me thither. The 
ascent of the Brevent is one of the most interesting trips 
that can be made from Chamonix. This mountain, about 
seven thousand six hundred feet high, is only the pro- 
longation of the chain for the Aiguilles-Rouges, which runs 


298 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


from the south-west to the north-east, parallel with that 
of Mont Blanc, and forms with it the narrow valley of 
Chamonix. The Brevent, by its central position, exactly 
opposite the Bossons glacier, enables one to watch the 
parties which undertake the ascent of the giant of the Alps 
nearly throughout their journey. It is therefore much 
frequented. 

We started about seven o’clock in the morning. As we 
went along, I thought of the mysterious words of the 
master-guide ; they annoyed me a little. Addressing 
Ravanel, I said, — 

“ Have you made the ascent of Mont Blanc 

‘‘Yes, monsieur,” he replied, “once; and that’s enough. 
I am not anxious to do it again.” 

“ The deuce ! ” said I. “ I am going to try it.” 

“You are free, monsieur; but I shall not go with you. 
The mountain is not good this year. Several attempts 
have already been made ; two only have succeeded. As 
for the second, the party tried the ascent twice. Besides, 
the accident last year has rather cooled the amateurs.” 

“An accident ! What accident 

“ Did not monsieur hear of it ? This is how it happened. 
A party, consisting of ten guides and porters and two 
Englishmen, started about the middle of September for 
Mont Blanc. They’ were seen to reach the summit; then, 
some minutes after, they disappeared in a cloud. When 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


299 


the cloud passed over no one was visible. The two 
travellers, with seven guides and porters, had been blown 
off by the wind and precipitated on the Cormayeur side, 
doubtless into the Brenva glacier. Despite the most 
vigilant search, their bodies could not be found. The 
other three were found one hundred and fifty yards below 
the summit, near the Petits-Mulets. They had become 
blocks of ice.” 

But these travellers must have been imprudent,” said 
I to Ravanel. ** What folly it was to start off so late in 
the year on such an expedition ! They should have gone 
up in August.” 

I vainly tried to keep up my courage ; this lugubrious 
story would haunt me in spite of myself. Happily the 
weather soon cleared, and the rays of a bright sun dis- 
sipated the clouds which still veiled Mont Blanc, and, at 
the same time, those which overshadowed my thoughts. 

Our ascent was satisfactorily accomplished.. On leaving 
the chalets of Planpraz, situated at a height of two thousand 
and sixty-two yards, you ascend, on ragged masses of rock 
and pools of snow, to the foot of a rock called “ The Chim- 
ney,” which is scaled with the feet and hands. Twenty 
minutes after, you reach the summit of the Prevent, whence 
the view is very fine. The chain of 'Mont Blanc appears in 
all its majesty. The gigantic mountain, firmly established 
on its powerful strata, seems to defy the tempests which 


300 


ASCi:NT OF MONT BLANC. 


sweep across its icy shield without ever impairing it ; whilst 
the crowd of icy needles, peaks, mountains, which form its 
cortege and rise everywhere around it, without equalling 
its noble height, carry the evident traces of a slow wasting 
away. 

From the excellent look-out which we occupied, we could 



VIEW OF MONT BLANC FROM THE BREVENT. 


reckon, though still imperfectly, the distance to be gone 
over in order to attain the summit. This summit, which 
from Chamonix appears so near the dome of the Gouter, 
now took its true position. The various plateaus which 
form so many degrees which must be crossed, and which 
are not visible from below, appeared from the Brevent, and 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 3OI 

threw the so-much-desired summit, by the laws of per- 
spective, still farther in the background. The Bossons 
glacier, in all its splendour, bristled with icy needles and 
blocks (blocks sometimes ten yards square), which seemed, 
like the waves of an angry sea, to beat against the sides of 
the rocks of the Grands-Mulets, the base of which disap- 
peared in their midst. 

This marvellous spectacle was not likely to cool my im- 
patience, and I more eagerly than ever promised myself to 
explore this hitherto unknown world. 

My companion was equally inspired by the scene, and 
from this moment I began to think that I should not have 
to ascend Mont Blanc alone. 

We descended again to Chamonix ; the weather became 
milder every hour ; the barometer continued to ascend ; 
everything seemed to promise well. 

The next day at sunrise I hastened to the master- 
guide. The sky was cloudless ; the wind, almost imper- 
ceptible, was north-east. The chain of Mont Blanc, ^ 
the higher summits of which were gilded by the rising 
sun, seemed to invite the many tourists to ascend it. 
One could not, in all politeness, refuse so kindly an 
invitation. 

M. Balmat, after consulting his barometer, declared the 
ascent to be practicable, and promised me the two guides 
and the porter prescribed in our agreement I left the 


302 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


selection of these to him. But an unexpected incident 
disturbed my preparations for departure. 

As I came out of M. Balmat’s office, I met Ravanel, my 
guide of the day before. 

‘^Is monsieur going to Mont Blanc he asked. 

‘*Yes, certainly,” said I. “Is it not a favourable time 
to go.?” 

He reflected . a few moments, and then said with an 
embarrassed air, — 

“ Monsieur, you are my traveller ; I accompanied you 
yesterday to the Brevent, so I cannot leave you now ; and, 
since you are going up, I will go with you, if you will 
kindly accept my services. It is your right, for on all dan- 
gerous journeys the traveller can choose his own guides. 
Only, if you accept my offer, I ask that you will also take 
my brother, Ambrose Ravanel, and my cousin, Gaspard 
Simon. These are young, vigorous fellows ; they do not 
like the ascent of Mont Blanc better than I do; but they 
will not shirk it, and I answer for them to you as I would 
Tor myself.” 

This young man inspired me with all confidence. I 
accepted his proposition, and hastened to apprise M. Balrnat 
of the choice I had made. But M. Balrnat had meanwhile 
been selecting guides for me according to their turn on his 
list. One only had accepted, Edward Simon ; the answer 
of another, Jean Carrier, had not yet been received, though 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


303 


it was scarcely doubtful, as this man had already made the 
ascent of Mont Blanc twenty-nine times. I thus found 
myself in an embarrassing position. The guides I had 
chosen were- all from Argentiere, a village six kilometres 
from Chamonix. Those of Chamonix accused Ravanel of 
having influenced me in favour of his family, which was 
contrary to the regulations. 

To cut the discussion short, I took Edward Simon, who 
; had already made his preparations as a third guide. He 
i would be useless if I went up alone, but would become 
' indispensable if my friend also ascended. 

I This settled, I went to tell Donatien- Levesque. I found 
i him sleeping the sleep of the just, for he had walked over 
j sixteen kilometres on a mountain the evening before. I 
I had some difficulty in waking him ; but on removing first 
I his sheets, then his pillows, and finally his mattress, I 
obtained some result, and succeeded in making him under- 
stand that I was preparing for the hazardous trip. 

‘‘Well,” said he, yawning, “ I will go with you as far as 
the Grands-Mulets, and await your return there.” 

“ Bravo !” I replied. “ I have just one guide too many, 
and I will attach him to your person.” 

We bought the various articles indispensable to a journey 
across the glaciers. Iron-spiked alpenstocks, coarse cloth 
leggings, green spectacles fitting tightly to the eyes, furred 
p gloves, green veils, — nothing was forgotten. We each had 


304 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


excellent triple-soled shoes, which our guides roughed for 
the ice. This last is an important detail, for there are 
moments in such an expedition when the least slip is fatal, 
not only to yourself, but to the whole party wdth you. 

Our preparations and those of the guides occupied nearly^ 
two hours. About eight o’clock our mules were brought *“ 
and we set out at last for the chalet of the Pierre-Pointue,. 
situated at a height of six thousand five hundred feet, or: 
three thousand above the valley of Chamonix, not far from 
eight thousand five hundred feet below the summit of Mont 
Blanc. 

On reaching the Pierre-Pointue, about ten o’clock, we 

found there a Spanish tourist, M. N , accompanied by; 

two guides and a porter. His principal guide, Paccard, a 
relative of the Doctor Paccard who made, with Jacques 
Balmat, the first ascent of Mont Blanc, had already been j 

to the summit eighteen times. M. N was also getting j 

himself ready for the ascent. He had travelled much in 
America, and had crossed the Cordilleras to Quito, passing 
through snow at the highest points. He therefore thought ! 
that he could, without great difficulty, carry through hisl 
new enterprise; but in this he was mistaken. He hadi 
reckoned without the steepness of the inclinations which i 
he had to cross, and the rarefaction of the air. I hasten i 
to add, to his honour, that, since he succeeded in reach- 
ing the summit of Mont Blanc, it was due to a rare moral 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


305 


[ Cinergy, for his physical energies had long before deserted 
1 him. 

We breakfasted as heartily as possible at the Pierre- 
Pointue; this being a prudent precaution, as the appetite 
usually fails higher up among the ice. 

M. N set out at eleven, with his guides, for the 



VIEW OF BOSSONS GLACIER, NEAR THE GRANDS-MULETS. 


Grands-Mulets. We did not stait until noon. The mule- 
road ceases at the Pierre-Pointue. We had then to go up a 
veiy narrow zigzag path, which follows the edge of the 
Bossons glacier, and along the base of the Aiguille-du-Midi. 
After an hour of difficult climbing in an intense heat, we 
reached a point called the Pierre-a-rEchelle, eight thousand 

X 


1 


■> 

30b ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 

«■ ' ■ ' ■ " ... - . . 

one hundred feet high. The guides and travellers were 
then bound together by a strong rope, with three or four 
yards between each. We were about to advance upon the 
Bossons glacier. This glacier, difficult at first, presents' 
yawning and apparently bottomless crevasses on every < 
hand. The vertical sides of these crevasses are of a" 



PASSAGE OF THE BOSSONS GLACIER. 

glaucous and uncertain colour, but too seducing to the 
eye; when, approaching closely, you succeed in looking' 
into their mysterious depths, you feel yourself irresistibly 
drawn towards them, and nothing seems more natural than 
to go down into them. 

You advance slowly, passing round the crevasses, or on 




ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


307 


! the snow bridges of dubious strength. Then the rope 
plays its part. It is stretched out over these dangerous 
i transits ; if the snow bridge yields, the guide or traveller 
remains hanging over the abyss. He is drawn beyond it, 
and gets off with a few bruises. Sometimes, if the crevasse 
is very wide but not deep, he descends to the bottom and 



CREVASSE AND BRIDGE. 


goes Up on the other side. In this case it is necessary to 
cut steps in the ice, and the two leading guides, armed with 
a sort of hatchet, perform this difficult and perilous task. 
A special circumstance makes the entrance on the Bossons 
dangerous. You go upon the glacier at the base of the 
Aiguille-du-Midi, opposite a passage whence stone ava- 

X 2 


3o8 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


lanches often descend. This passage is nearly six hundred 
feet wide. It must be crossed quickly, and as you pass, a 
guide stands on guard to avert the danger from you if it 
presents itself. In 1869 a guide was killed on this spot, 
and his body, hurled into space by a stone, was dashed to 
pieces on the rocks nine hundred feet below. 



VIEW OF THE “SERACS.” 


We were warned, and hastened our steps as fast as our 
inexperience would permit ; but on leaving this dangerous 
zone, another, not less dangerous, awaited us. This was the 
region of the “seracs,” — immense blocks of ice, the forma- 
tion of which is not as yet explained. 

These are usually situated on the edge of a plateau, and 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


309 


menace the whole valley beneath them. A slight move- 
ment of the glacier, or even a light vibration of the tem- 
perature, impels their fall, and occasions the most serious 
accidents. 

“ Messieurs, keep quiet, and let us pass over quickly.” 

These words, roughly spoken by one of the guides, 



checked our conversation. We went across rapidly and in 
silence. We finally reached what is called the ^‘Junction ” 
(which might more properly be called the violent Separa- 
tion”), by the Cote Mountain, the Bossons and Tacconay 
glaciers. At this point the scene assumes an indescribable 
character ; crevasses with changing colours, ice-needles 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


310 

with sharp forms, seracs suspended and pierced with the 
light, little green lakes, compose a chaos which surpasses 
everything that one can imagine. Added to this, the rush 
of the torrents at the foot of the glaciers, the sinister and 
repeated crackings of the blocks which detached them- ; 
selves and fell in avalanches down the crevasses, the i 



PASSAGE OF THE “JUNCTION.” 


trembling of the ground which opened beneath our feet, 
gave a singular idea of those desolate places the existence 
of which only betrays itself by destruction and death. 

After passing the Junction” you follow the Tacconay 
glacier for awhile, and reach the side which leads to the 
Grands-Mulets. This part, which is very sloping, is 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


3II 

traversed in zigzags. The leading guide takes care to 
trace them at an angle of thirty degrees, when there is 
fresh snow, to avoid the avalanches. 

After crossing for three hours on the ice and snow, we 
reach the Grands-Mulets, rocks six hundred feet high, 
overlooking on one side the Bossons glacier, and on the 



HUT AT THE GRANDS-MULETS. 


other the sloping plains which extend to the base of the 
Gohter dome. 

A small hut, constructed by the guides near the summit 
of the first rock, gives a shelter to travellers, and enables 
mem to await a favourable moment for setting out for the 
^.jmmit of Mont Blanc. 


312 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. . 


They dine there as well as they can, and sleep too ; but 
the proverb, “ He who sleeps dines,” does not apply to this 
elevation, for one cannot seriously do the one or the other. 

“ Well,” said I to Levesque, after a pretence of a meal, 
** did I exaggerate the splendour of the landscape, and do 
you regret having come thus far.'^” 

“ I regret it so little,” he replied, that I am determined 
to go on to the summit. You may count on me.” 

“Very good,” said I. “But you know the worst is yet 
to come.” 

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, “we will go to the end. 
Meanwhile, let us observe the sunset, which must be 
magnificent.” 

The heavens had remained wonderfully clear. The 
chain of the Brevent and the Aiguilles-Rouges stretched 
out at our feet. Beyond, the Fiz rocks and the Aiguille- 
de-Varan rose above the Sallanche Valley, and the whole 
chains of Mont Fleury and the Reposoir appeared in the 
background. More to the right we could descry the snowy 
summit of the Buet, and farther off the Dents-du-Midi, 
with its five tusks, overhanging the valley of the Rhone. 
Behind us were the eternal snows of the Gouter, Mont 
Maudit, and, lastly, Mont Blanc. 

Little by little the shadows invaded the valley of 
Chamonix, and gradually each of the summits which over- 
look it on the west. The chain of Mont Blanc alone 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


3^3 


remained luminous, and seemed encircled by a golden halo. 
Soon the shadows crept up the Gohter and Mont Maudit. 
They still respected the giant of the Alps. We watched 
this gradual disappearance of the light with admiration. 
It lingered awhile on the highest summit, and gave us the 
foolish hope that it would not depart thence. But in a few 



VIEW OF MONT BLANC FROM GRANDS -MULETS. 


moments all was shrouded in gloom, and the livid and 
ghastly colours of death succeeded the living hues. I 
do not exaggerate. Those who love mountains will com- 
prehend me. 

After witnessing this sublime scene^ we had only to 
await the moment of departure. We were to set 'out again 


314 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


at two in the morning. Now, therefore, we stretched our- 
selves upon our mattresses. 

It was useless to think of sleeping, much more of 
talking. We were absorbed by more or less gloomy 
thoughts. It was the night before the battle, with the 
difference that nothing forced us to engage in the struggle. 
Two sorts of ideas struggled in the mind. It was the ebb 
and flow of the sea, each in its turn. Objections to the 
venture were not wanting. Why run so much danger ? If 
we succeeded, of what advantage would it be ? If an 
accident happened, how we should regret it ! Then 
the imagination set to work; all the mountain catas- 
trophes rose in the fancy. I dreamed of snow bridges 
giving way under my feet, of being precipitated in the 
yawning crevasses, of hearing the terrible noises of the 
avalanches detaching themselves and burying me, of dis- 
appearing, of cold and death seizing upon me, and of 
struggling with desperate effort, but in vain ! 

A sharp, horrible noise is heard at this moment 

**The avalanche! the avalanche!” I cry. 

*‘What is the matter with you.?” asks Levesque, start- 
ing up. 

Alas ! It is a piece of furniture which, in the struggles 
of my nightmare, I have just broken. This very prosaic 
avalanche recalls me to the reality. I laugh at my terrors, 
a contrary current of thought gets the upper hand, and 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


315 


with it ambitious ideas. I need only use a little effort to 
reach this summit, so seldom attained. It is a victory, as 
others are. Accidents are rare — very rare ! Do they ever 
take place at all } The spectacle from the summit must 
be so marvellous ! And then what satisfaction there 
would be in having accomplished what so many others 
dared not undertake ! 

My courage was restored by these thoughts, and I 
calmly awaited the moment of departure. 

About one o’clock the steps and voices of the guides, 
and the noise of opening doors, indicated that that moment 
was approaching. Soon Ravanel came in and said. 

Come, messieurs, get up ; the weather is magnificent. 
By ten o’clock we shall be at the summit.” 

At these words we leaped from our beds, and hurried to 
make our toilet. Two of the guides, Ambrose Ravanel 
and his cousin Simon, went on ahead to explore the road. 
They were provided with a lantern, which was to show us 
the way to go, and with hatchets to make the path and 
cut steps in the very difficult spots. At two o’clock we 
tied ourselves one to another: the order of march was, 
Edward Ravanel before me, and at the head ; behind 
me Edward Simon, then Donatien Levesque ; after him 
our two porters (for we took along with us the domestic 

of the Grands-Mulets hut as a second), and M. N ’s 

party. 


3i6 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


The guides and porters having distributed the provisions 
between them, the signal for departure was given, and we 
set off in the midst of profound darkness, directing our- 
selves according to the lantern held up at some distance 
ahead. 

There was something solemn in this setting out. But 
few words were spoken ; the vagueness of the unknown 
impressed us, but the new and strange situation excited us, 
and rendered us insensible to its dangers. The landscape 
around was fantastic. But few outlines were distinguish- 
able. Great white confused masses, with blackish spots 
here and there, closed the horizon. The celestial vault 
shone with remarkable brilliancy. We could perceive, at 
an uncertain distance, the lantern of the guides who were 
ahead, and the mournful silence of the night was only 
disturbed by the dry, distant noise of the hatchet cutting 
steps in the ice. 

We crept slowly and cautiously over the first ascent, 
going towards the base of the Gohter. After ascending 
laboriously for two hours, we reached the first plateau, 
called the “ Petit-Plateau,” at the foot of the Gouter, at a 
height of about eleven thousand feet. We rested a few 
moments and then proceeded, turning now to the left and 
going towards the edge which conducts to the Grand- 
Plateau.” 

But our party had already lessened in number : M. 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


317 


N , with his guides, had stopped ; his fatigue obliged 

him to take a longer rest. 

About half-past four dawn began to whiten the horizon. 
At this moment we were ascending the slope which leads 
to the Grand-Plateau, which we soon safely reached. We 
were eleven thousand eight hundred feet high. We had 
well earned our breakfast. Wonderful to relate, Levesque 
and I had a good appetite. It was a good sign. We there- 
fore installed ourselves on the snow, and made such a 
repast as we could. Our guides joyfully declared that 
success was certain. As for me, I thought they resumed 
work too quickly. 

M. N rejoined us before long. We urged him to 

take some nourishment. He peremptorily refused. He 
felt the contraction of the stomach which is so common 
in those parts, and was almost broken down. 

The Grand-Plateau deserves a special description. On 
the right rises the dome of the Gouter. Opposite it is 
Mont Blanc, rearing itself two thousand seven hundred 
feet above it. On the left are the “Rouges” rocks and 
Mont Maudit. This immense circle is one mass of 
glittering whiteness. On every side are vast crevasses. 
It was in one of these that three of the guides who 
accompanied Dr. Hamel and Colonel Anderson, in 1820, 
were swallowed up. In 1864 another guide met his death 
there. 


318 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


This plateau must be crossed with great caution, as the 
crevasses are often hidden by the snow ; besides, it is often 
swept by avalanches. On the 13th of October, 1866, an 
English traveller and three of his guides were buried under 
a mass of ice that fell from Mont Blanc. After a perilous 
search, the bodies of the three guides were found. They 



CROSSING THE PLATEAU. 


were expecting every moment to find that of the English- 
man, when a fresh avalanche fell upon the first, and forced 
the searchers to abandon their task. 

Three routes presented themselves to us. The ordinary 
route, which passes entirely to the left, by the base of 
Mont Maudit, through a sort of valley called the Cor- 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


319 


ridor,” leads by gentle ascents to the top of the first 
escarpment of the Rouges rocks. 

The second, less frequented, turns to the right by the 
Gouter, and leads to the summit of Mont Blanc by the 
ridge which unites these two mountains. You must 
pursue for three hours a giddy path, and scale a height 
of moving ice, called the Camel’s Hump.” 

The third route consists in ascending directly to the 
summit of the Corridor, crossing an ice-wall seven hundred 
and fifty feet high, which extends along the first escarp- 
ment of the Rouges rocks. 

The guides declared the first route impracticable, on 
account of the recent crevasses which entirely obstructed it ; 
the choice between the two others remained. I thought 
the second, by the Camel’s Hump,” the best ; but it was 
regarded as too dangerous, and it was decided that we 
should attack the ice-wall conducting to the summit of the 
Corridor. 

When a decision is made, it is best to execute it without 
delay. We crossed the Grand-Plateau, and reached the 
foot of this really formidable obstacle. 

The nearer we approached the more nearly vertical 
became its slope. Besides, several crevasses which we had 
not perceived yawned at its base. 

We nevertheless began the difficult ascent. Steps were 
begun by the foremost guide, and completed by the next. 


320 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


We ascended two steps a minute. The higher we went the 
more the steepness increased. Our guides ^themselves 
discussed what route to follow ; they spoke in patois, and 
did not always agree, which was not a good sign. At last 
the slope became such that our hats touched the legs of 
the guide just before us. 

A hailstorm of pieces of ice, produced by the cutting 
of the steps, blinded us, and made our progress still 
more difficult. Addressing one of the foremost guides, 
I said, — 

^^Ah, it’s very well going up this way ! It is not an 
open road, I admit ; still, it is practicable. Only how are 
you going to get us down again 

O monsieur,” replied Ambrose Ravanel, we will take 
another route going back.” 

At last, after violent effort for two hours, and after 
having cut more than four hundred steps in this terrible 
mass, we reached the summit of the Corridor completely 
exhausted. 

We then crossed a slightly sloping plateau of snow, and 
passed along the side of an immense crevasse which ob- 
structed our way. We had scarcely turned it when we 
uttered a cry of admiration. On the right. Piedmont and 
the plains of Lombardy were at our feet. On the left, the 
Pennine Alps and the Oberland, crowned with snow, raised 
their magnificent crests. Monte Rosa and the Cervin 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


321 


alone still rose above us, but soon we should overlook them 
in our turn. 

This reflection recalled us to the end of our expedition. We 
turned our gaze towards Mont Blanc, and stood stupefied. 

** Heavens ! how far off it is still !” cried Levesque. 

*^And how high!” I added. 

It was a discouraging sight. The famous wall of the 
ridge, so much feared, but which must be crossed, was 
before us, with its slope of fifty degrees. But after scaling 
the wall of the Corridor, it did not terrify us. We rested 
for half an hour and then continued our tramp ; but we 
soon perceived that the atmospheric conditions were no 
longer the same. The sun shed his warm rays upon us ; 
and their reflection on the snow added to our discomfort. 
The rarefaction of the air began to be severely felt. We 
advanced slowly, making frequent halts, and at last reached 
the plateau which overlooks the second escarpment of the 
Rouges rocks. We were at the foot of Mont Blanc. It 
rose, alone and majestic, at a height of six hundred feet 
above us. Monte Rosa itself had lowered its flag I 

Levesque and I were completely exhausted. As for M. 

N , who had rejoined us at the summit of the Corridor, 

it might be said that he was insensible to the rarefaction of 
the air, for he no longer breathed, so to speak. 

We began at last to scale the last stage. We made ten 
steps and then stopped, finding it absolutely impossible to 

Y 


322 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


proceed. A painful contraction of the throat made our 
breathing exceedingly difficult. Our legs refused to carry 
us ; and I then understood the picturesque expression of 
Jacques Balmat, when, in narrating his first ascent, he said 
that ^^his legs seemed only to be kept up by his trousers !’* 
But our mental was superior to our physical force ; and if 



SUMMIT OF MONT BLANC. 


the body faltered, the heart, responding “Excelsior !” stifled 
its desperate complaint, and urged forward our poor worn- 
out mechanism, despite itself. We thus passed the Petits- 
Mulets, and after two hours of superhuman efibrts finally 
overlooked the entire chain. Mont Blanc was under our 
feet ! 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


323 


It was fifteen minutes after twelve. 

The pride of success soon dissipated our fatigue. We 
had at last conquered this formidable crest. We overlooked 
all the others, and the thoughts which Mont Blanc alone 
can inspire affected us with a deep emotion. It was 
ambition satisfied ; and to me, at least, a dream realized ! 

Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in Europe. Several 
mountains in Asia and America are higher; but of what 
use would it be to attempt them, if, in the absolute impos- 
sibility of reaching their summit, you must be content to 
remain at a lesser height ? 

Others, such as Mont Cervin, are more difficult of access ; 
but we perceived the summit of Mont Cervin twelve 
hundred feet below us ! 

And then, what a view to reward us for our troubles and 
dangers ! 

The sky, still pure, had assumed a deep-blue tint. The 
sun, despoiled of a part of his rays, had lost his brilliancy, 
as if in a partial eclipse. This effect, due to the rarefaction 
of the air, was all the more apparent as the surrounding 
eminences and plains were inundated with light. No detail 
of the scene, therefore, escaped our notice. 

In the south-east, the mountains of Piedmont, and farther 
off the plains of Lombardy, shut in our horizon. Towards 
the west, the mountains of Savoy and Dauphine ; beyond, 
the valley of the Rhone. In the north west, the Lake of 

Y 2 


324 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


Geneva and the Jura ; then, descending towards the south, 
a chaos of mountains and glaciers, beyond description, 
overlooked by the masses of Monte Rosa, the Mischabel- 
hoerner, the Cervin, the Weishorn — the most beautiful of 
crests, as Tyndall calls it — and farther off by the Jungfrau, 
the Monck, the Eiger, and the Finsteraarhorn. 

The extent of our range of vision was not less than 
sixty leagues. We therefore saw at least one hundred and 
twenty leagues of country. 

A special circumstance happened to enhance the beauty 
of the scene. Clouds formed on the Italian side and 
invaded the valleys of the Pennine Alps without veiling 
their summits. We soon had under our eyes a second sky, 
a lower sky, a sea of clouds, whence emerged a perfect 
archipelago of peaks and snow-wrapped mountains. There 
was something magical in it, which the greatest poets 
could scarcely describe. 

The summit of Mont Blanc forms a ridge from south- 
west to north-east, two hundred paces long and a yard 
wide at the culminating point. It seemed like a ship’s hull 
overturned, the keel in the air. 

Strangely enough, the temperature was very high — ten 
degrees above zero. The air was almost still. Sometimes 
we felt a light breeze. 

The first care of our guides was to place us all in a line 
on the crest opposite Chamonix, that we might be easily 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


325 


counted from below, and thus make it known that no one 
of us had been lost. Many of the tourists had ascended 
! the Brevent and the Jardin to watch our ascent. They 
! might now be assured of its success. 

But to ascend was not all we must think also of going 
I down. The most difficult, if not most wearisome, task 
remained ; and then one quits with regret a summit 
attained at the price of so much toil. The energy which 
urges you to ascend, the need, so natural and imperious, 
of overcoming, now fails you. You go forward listlessly, 
often looking behind you ! 

It was necessary, however, to decide, and, after a last 
traditional libation of champagne, we put ourselves in 
I motion. We had remained on the summit an hour. The 

! order of march was now changed. M. N ’s party led 

! off ; and, at the suggestion of his guide Paccard, we were 

all tied together with a rope. M. N 's fatigue, which 

his strength, but not his will, betrayed, made us fear falls 
on his part which would require the help of the whole 
party to arrest. The event justified our foreboding. On 

descending the side of the wall, M. N made several 

false steps. His guides, very vigorous and skilful, were 
happily able to check him ; but ours, feeling, with reason, 
that the whole party might be dragged down, wished to 
detach us from the rope. Levesque and I opposed this ; 
and, by taking great precautions, we saiely reached the 


326 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


base of this giddy ledge. There was no room for illusions. 
The almost bottomless abyss was before us, and the pieces 
of detached ice, which bounded . by us with the rapidity of 
an arrow, clearly showed us the route which the party 
would take if a slip were made. 

Once this terrible gap crossed, I began to breathe again. 
We descended the gradual slopes which led to the summit 
of the Corridor. The snow, softened by the heat, yielded 
beneath our feet ; we sank in it to the knees, which made 
our progress very fatiguing. We steadily followed the 
path by which w^e ascended in the morning, and I was 
astonished when Gaspard Simon, turning towards me, 
said, — 

“ Monsieur, we cannot take any other road, for the 
Corridor is impracticable, and we must descend by the 
wall which we climbed up this morning.” 

I told Levesque this disagreeable news. 

“ Only,” added Gaspard Simon, I do not think we can 
all remain tied together. However, we will see how M. 
N bears it at first.” 

We advanced towards this terrible wall ! M. N ’s 

party began to descend, and we heard Paccard talking 
rapidly to him. The inclination became so steep that we 
perceived neither him nor his guides, though we were 
bound together by the same rope. 

As soon as Gaspard Simon, who went before me, could 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


327 


comprehend what was passing, he stopped, and after 
exchanging some words in patois with his comrades, de- 
clared that we must detach ourselves from M. N ’s 

party. 

We are responsible for you,” he added, but we cannot 
be responsible for others ; and if they slip, they will drag 
us after them.” 

Saying this, he got loose from the rope. We were very 
unwilling to take this step ; but our guides were inflexible. 

We then proposed to send two of them to help M. N ’s 

guides. They eagerly consented ; but having no rope they 
could not put this plan into execution. 

We then began this terrible descent. Only one of us 
moved at a time, and when each took a step the others 
buttressed themselves ready to sustain the shock if he 
i slipped. The foremost guide, Edward Ravanel, had the 
j most perilous task ; it was for him to make the steps over 
again, now more or less worn away by the ascending 
1 caravan. 

We progressed slowly, taking the most careful precau- 
tions. Our route led us in a right line to one of the 
! crevasses which opened at the base of the escarpment. 
When we were going up we could not look at this crevasse, 
but in descending we were fascinated by its green and 
yawning sides. All the blocks of ice detached by our 
passage went the same way, and after two or three 


328 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


bounds, ingulfed themselves in the crevasse, as in the jaws 
of the minotaur, only the jaws of the minotaur closed after 
each morsel, while the unsatiated crevasse yawned per- 
petually, and seemed to await, before closing, a larger 
mouthful. It was for its to take care that we should not 
be this mouthful, and all our efforts were made for this end. 
In order to withdraw ourselves from this fascination, this 
moral giddiness, if I may so express myself; we tried to 
joke about the dangerous position in which we found our- 
selves, and which even a chamois would not have envied 
us. We even got so far as to hum one of Offenbach’s 
couplets ; but I must confess that our jokes were feeble, 
and that we did not sing the airs correctly. 

I even thought I discovered Levesque obstinately setting 
the words of “ Barbe-Bleue ” to one of the airs in II 
Trovatore,” which rather indicated some grave preoccupa- 
tion of the mind. In short, in order to keep up our spirits, 
we did as do those brave cowards who sing in the dark to 
forget their fright. 

We remained thus, suspended between life and death, 
for an hour, which seemed an eternity ; at last we reached 
the bottom of this terrible escarpment. We there found 
M. N and his party, safe and sound. 

After resting a little while, we continued our journey. 

As we were approaching the Petit-Plateau, Edward 
Ravanel suddenly stopped, and, turning towards us, said, — 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


329 


** See what an avalanche ! It has covered our tracks.” 

An immense avalanche of ice had indeed fallen from the 
Gouter, and entirely buried the path we had followed in 
the morning across the Petit- Plateau. 

I estimated that the mass of this avalanche could not 
comprise less than five hundred cubic yards. If it had 
fallen while we were passing, one more catastrophe would 
no doubt have been added to the list, already too long, of 
the necrology of Mont Blanc. 

This fresh obstacle forced us to seek a new road, or to 
pass around the foot of the avalanche. As we were much 
fatigued, the latter course was assuredly the simplest ; but 
it involved a serious danger. A wall of ice more than 
sixty feet high, already partly detached from the Gouter, 
to which it only clung by one of its angles, overhung the 
path which we should follow. This great mass seemed to 
hold itself in equilibrium. What if our passing, by dis- 
turbing the air, should hasten its fall ? Our guides held a 
consultation. Each of them examined with a spy-glass 
the fissure which had been formed between the mountain 
and this alarming ice-mass. The sharp and clear edges of 
the cleft betrayed a recent breaking off, evidently caused 
by the fall of the avalanche. 

After a brief discussion, our guides, recognizing the 
impossibility of finding another road, decided to attempt 
this dangerous passage. 


330 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


‘‘We must walk very fast, — even run, if possible,” said 
they, “and we shall be in safety in five minutes. Come, 
messieurs, a last effort !” 

A run of five minutes is a small matter for people who 
are only tired ; but for us, who were absolutely exhausted, 
to run even for so short a time on soft snow, in which we 
sank up to the knees, seemed an impossibility. Never- 
theless, we made an urgent appeal to our energies, and 
after two or three tumbles, drawn forward by one, pushed 
by another, we finally reached a snow hillock, on which we 
fell breathless. We were out of danger. 

It required some time to recover ourselves. We stretched 
out on the snow with a feeling of comfort which every one 
will understand. The greatest difficulties had been sur- 
mounted, and though there were still dangers to brave, 
we could confront them with comparatively little appre- 
hension. 

We prolonged our halt in the hope of witnessing the fall 
of the avalanche, but in vain. As the day was advancing, 
and it was not prudent to tarry in these icy solitudes, we 
decided to continue on our way, and about five o’clock we 
reached the hut of the Grands-Mulets. 

After a bad night, attended by fever caused by the sun- 
strokes encountered in our expedition, we made ready to 
return to Chamonix ; but, before setting out, we inscribed 
the names of our guides and the principal events of our 


331 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


journey, according to the custom, on the register kept for 
this purpose at the Grands-Mulets. 

About eight o’clock we started for Chamonix. The 
passage of the Bossons was difficult, but we accomplished 
it without accident. 

Half an hour before reaching Chamonix, we met, at the 


GRANDS-MULETS. — PARTY DESCENDING FROM THE HUT. 

chalet of the Dard falls, some English tourists, who seemed 
to be watching our progress. When they perceived us, they 
hurried up eagerly to congratulate us on our success. One 
of them presented us to his wife, a charming person, with a 
well-bred air. After we had given them a sketch of our 
perilous peregrinations, she said to us, in earnest accents, — 



332 


ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 


How much you are envied here by everybody ! Let 
me touch your alpenstocks ! ” 

These words seemed to interpret the general feeling. 

The ascent of Mont Blanc is a very, painful one. It is 
asserted that the celebrated naturalist of Geneva, De 
Saussure, acquired there the seeds of the disease of which 
he died in a few months after his return from the summit. 
I cannot better close this narrative than by quoting the 
words of M. Markham Sherwell : — 

** However it may be,” he says, in describing his ascent 
of Mont Blanc, I would not advise any one to undertake 
this ascent, the rewards of which can never have an im- 
portance proportionate to the dangers encountered by the 
tourist, and by those who accompany him.” 


THE END. 


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